No More a Savage Life: Chapter Three
by lovinghannibal
Summary: This is a direct sequel to No More a Savage Life and No More a Savage Life: Chapter Two. It is rated M for violence, language and expressive sexual situations. Though it can stand alone, I suggest reading One and Two not to miss out on any plot points or new characters.
1. Chapter 1

**No More a Savage Life: Chapter Three**

**Welcome back my dear friends! **

**THE LETTER**

Hannibal sat at the piano cheerfully dabbling with a bit of Brahms as the baby watched him from the plush lined carrier secured on the bench beside him.

"Shall we begin your musical education? A bit of Chopin, perhaps, Little One."

The baby cooed in response to his father's voice, as if answering the question posed.

"What was that? Yes, the Revolutionary etude would be fun. Let us find the sheet music. I must be accurate if I am to be your teacher in this."

As Hannibal pushed through the buff colored Schirmer Editions searching for the selection, his hand fell upon the letter that had accompanied the armor. Slipping it from between the music books he turned it over in his hand, reflecting.

"Lady Murasaki has seen fit to contact us, my son. You're obviously the impetus for her actions being that she hadn't considered me worthy of any manner of attention prior to your birth."

The envelope sat on the piano a full five days after it had been received, remaining unopened. Clarice had expressed a certain degree of curiosity, maybe with a smattering of jealousy mixed in, and wanted Hannibal to reveal the contents, but her husband didn't seem to share the same curiosity so she didn't push him. No interest in the letter could mean either no interest in the woman or a reluctance to face the emotions. Either way, Clarice thought it better not to push.

Hannibal saw no reason to explain himself. There was no emotional pull or need to discover the contents. Still, it was an unusual set of circumstances. The relationship was, by marriage, familial, yet it had morphed into something more. Her scent had been quite familiar to him. Normally, out of curiosity, he might have lifted the envelope to his nose to test himself to see if his memory of her scent was still as he believed it to be, yet, he had no motivation to do so.

Considering several courses of action, Hannibal spoke to his son.

"My ambivalence to your aunt aside, she has taken the time to write. It would be impolite to accept the gift and ignore the correspondence. Perhaps I should send the armor back with my regrets, as we need nothing from her. No. Not without at least reading the letter. That would be exceedingly impolite. As you will learn, my son, Lecter men are nothing if not gracious; especially to women, whether or not the grace is deserved."

Hannibal smoothed a hand across the surface of the rich linen paper, his decision to open it being guided by chivalry alone. He explained his decision to his son.

"It would seem my upbringing and inquisitive nature begs me to open the envelope though I am surprised there is not any feeling of emotional attachment or sense of moral obligation. It is curious. I hold in my hand that which she held. I should be moved, yet I feel nothing."

Hannibal reached within his sleeve, withdrew his Harpy and after smoothly thumbing the blade open, slipped the point beneath the flap, slicing it open.

Surveying the handwriting as he pulled the letter from the envelope, he continued to address his son.

"Her hand is quite steady for her years. Her health must be good."

Unfolding the letter, Hannibal angled the paper just beneath the piano's music lamp, reading silently.

_Dearest Hannibal,_

_My nephew, I have long thought to write. Many times, so many years ago, you reached out to me, yet each time, I turned you away. Though you have long since halted that contact, I believe I owe you an explanation. Shall I tell you why I turned from you? Out of fear. A weakness? Yes, perhaps, but I have been forced as of late, to look back at my life and consider whether it was the fear of loving you, or the fear of you not loving me, that drove my choices. I convinced myself of the former, but seeing you on television with your beautiful young wife, wishing that my choices had been different, grief-stricken, I now accept it to be the latter._

_You have taken many lives, my dearest Hannibal, but the life I most mourned was the loss of your own. I believed love could calm your mind and still the anger in your soul. When I couldn't stay your hand, believing myself worthy, I became convinced you were incapable of feeling love. Now that I have seen you with your wife and son, I understand it was my deficiency, not your own, that drove us apart._

_My, how precious she must be to you; Clarice, the only woman capable of drawing out that which you locked away. That you have given her your heart, she must be very special indeed. _

_You have a family now, dear Hannibal. You have a wife, a son and a future. My heart is so very full to see it. I do not expect to share in your joy. That would be an insult. Though circumstances have long forced me to accept your financial support, I have rejected your care and concern. As such, I am not entitled to share in that happiness now._

_Please Hannibal, for the sake of your son, accept this armor as my gift. You know the history. As my only family, the task falls to you to pass it on to your child. He is so very precious. When I see him, I can't help but think, if I had I been more sensitive to the needs of your heart, your son might have been my own. Though distance and time have conspired to keep us one without the other, I have long loved you. I wish you health and happiness. Family is a precious gift, one you have long deserved and one, I know, you will treasure. Know that you, too, are treasured._

_Be well, be happy and be loved._

_My heart is with you, my dearest Hannibal._

_All my love,_

_LM _

Hannibal folded the letter, slipped it back within the envelope and placed it on top of the piano. He turned to his baby and noticed the boy's eyes appeared heavy as sleep began to tug them down. Hannibal placed his large palm on his son's chest feeling the rise and fall of each breath. Comforted by of his father's hand, the baby was soon fast asleep.

Emotions churning, though he couldn't quite put his finger on the cause, he spoke softly, "Ravel, my son…Ravel."

Hannibal's hands lighted on the piano. As he played, Pavane pour une Ifante defunte, his eyes twitched slightly and single a tear tracked down his face. Feeling nothing in particular from the letter itself, as the tiny pearl of moisture dripped from his cheek, he angled his head slightly, considering the sentiment behind it. Could it be the thought of a love long lost? No. Impossible. Was this, perchance his body's unexpected reaction to the memory of what had been? Perhaps mourning the loss of what could have been?

No.

Hannibal Lecter felt none of those things. This was something else. This was something deeper, a burning that centered within his chest, that caused his heart to race…that heated his eyes. This was something more, something so very much more.

This was…

_Clarice…_

* * *

To give her husband a brief respite, Clarice took Ardelia and Logan out for lunch. Logan had been convinced to accompany the women though he had little interest in shopping or seeing the town, with the promise that the last stop would be the chocolatier to bring snacks back for later in the evening. Not that Logan cared about the chocolate itself, but Clarice told him Hannibal adored the confectionary shop so Logan insisted he make the choices.

When Clarice entered the foyer with Ardelia and Logan in tow, hearing the music she believed she sensed melancholy. Worry must have tinted her expression because Ardelia voiced immediate concern.

"Girl, what's going on? You look like you're gonna be sick."

Clarice held up a hand signaling that she stop speaking. She listened a few moments.

"Can't you hear the music?"

Ardelia's eyes sought clarification, "So? He plays beautifully. What's the problem?"

Her hand still extended, Clarice stepped toward the music room. She was obviously very concerned.

"You don't understand. His playing usually reflects his mood."

Logan shook his head. His normally cheerful eyebrows were knitted together with worry. "Well, that's a sad sounding piece. I don't think I want to be around when he comes out of that room."

"That's the problem. If he's upset, he won't come out of the room."

Ardelia placed a consoling hand on Clarice's shoulder. "Will he let you in?"

"Yeah. He tells me all the time there are no locked doors between us. As a matter of fact, aside from the exterior exits, he never locks doors."

"Except for the bathroom, right?" Logan kidded.

Ardelia slapped him, "You just had to go there, didn't you?"

Logan was surprised by her irritation, defended, "What? Every dude wants private time on the throne. It's like, embedded in our DNA or something."

Clarice waved to her friends, beckoning them to follow her to the kitchen. She spoke as she walked.

"He tells me all the time how much he appreciates the fact that the bathroom door locks, but other than when the film crew was breathing down his neck, he doesn't lock that door either."

Ardelia was a step or two behind, with Logan trailing like a puppy, straining to follow both the women, and their conversation. Ardelia was supportive, seeking to ease her friend's mind.

"Hell, if I spent as much time confined as that man did, I wouldn't lock doors either. You know, Clarice, you don't have to entertain Logan and me. Why don't you let us fend for ourselves tonight? There's no reason you can't have some private time with your husband. We can go out to a romantic dinner or something and Hannibal can cook for you. We'll be really quiet when we come in and go straight to our wing so you'll have the house to yourselves. Okay?"

Clarice almost said no. Almost. Then, she considered he might have opened the envelope and had no idea what sort of Pandora's box that might have been. She decided Hannibal might need the alone time so she reached for the keys to the Mustang and grabbed her wallet, handing both to Ardelia.

"There's plenty of money and the gas tank is full. You've got the front door key on the ring as well so come back whenever."

Ardelia attempted to return the wallet. "We don't need your money, Clarice."

"I know you don't, but allow me to treat you. I'm kicking you out for a couple of hours so it's the least I can do."

"Not to worry, Clarice. You take care of your man. Lord knows he's been through hell and back without complaint. We'll be scarce tonight."

Clarice looked at Logan. He was quiet. Not very Logan-like at all.

"You okay with this, Logan?"

"What? Yeah…I'm just worried about my buddy that's all. He's okay, right?"

"He's fine, Logan. Clarice can handle her own husband!"

"I know, but, if there's anything I can ever do, Clarice, you'd tell me, right?"

"Sure. If there's anything we need, trust me, I'll holler."

"Promise? Loud enough for me to hear, right?"

Clarice nodded, "Sure, Logan. I promise. If H needs you, trust me, you'll hear me."

"Don't worry. You can count on me, Clarice."

"I know I can, Logan. H knows too and we appreciate it."

* * *

Clarice waited patiently as her friends prepared for their evening. She continued to listen as Hannibal played, assessing the quality of each piece as he moved from selection to selection. The choices seemed lighter as he progressed.

The moment Clarice walked her friends out the front door, hearing Hannibal stop playing mid-phrase she panicked. He had their baby with him. Not that he would ever hurt his son. Even the thought of it was ridiculous to her, but the music had been so plaintive, so melancholy that although there seemed to be improvement, Clarice was concerned with Hannibal's frame of mind. She honestly had no idea what to make of the situation and worried when the playing stopped and Hannibal did not emerge.

_Okay, H…even if you couldn't tell by scent, you heard the car travel down the gravel path. You know I'm here and you know we're alone. If you're not playing the piano. Why haven't you come out?_

Clarice approached the door and paused, waiting for Hannibal to acknowledge her presence. When he didn't call to her, concern forced her hand to the door handle.

As Clarice opened the door, preparing to step in, Hannibal filled the doorway.

"Yes, Clarice?"

"Jesus Christ, H…how the hell do you move that quietly? You scared the hell out of me."

"It's an acquired skill, Clarice, and one that has served me well throughout the years, though my intention was not to frighten you. Our son is sleeping and I thought calling out to you would disturb his rest."

Though they were whispering, as if the baby could sense the presence of his mother, he began to stir. He cried quietly for just a moment; his signal he needed to feed.

"Well, seems like the baby's hungry, so why don't you scare us up a meal and I'll feed Hannibal."

"I'd much rather have what he's having, my Love."

"You'll get your turn, H…you'll get your turn."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	2. Chapter 2

**UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY**

First tenderly kissing his wife, Hannibal left the room ahead of Clarice to begin preparing their meal. Moving toward the piano to retrieve her son, she lifted him carefully from the seat and turned. Seeing the envelope resting on top of the piano and noticing the carefully sliced edge, she realized her husband had finally opened the correspondence.

Though Clarice was curious, she was more than certain Hannibal would catch her scent on the paper if she chose to handle it. Not that he would mind; he had offered that she read the letter, but without him present it seemed an intrusion at best and an invasion at worst, so she thought better of it and left it in its place. If Hannibal wanted to share, he would. Until such time she would of course, respect his privacy.

_Did something in the letter freak you out, H or am I just being oversensitive?_

Clarice took the baby from the music room and carried him to the large family room just off the kitchen so they would be closer to Hannibal as he prepared the evening meal. Unlike the home in Baltimore, this house was expansive with soaring beamed ceilings and a wide-open floor plan. It had the feel of a European hunting lodge, rustic, yet refined. The hand-hewn timbers and massive stone fireplace provided a comfortable living space, the perfect place to raise children.

_Children. Fatherhood suits him. He'll probably want more babies now. _

All the homes in the area were of similar design and construction, though theirs was much larger than most. The zoning required a certain architectural style, all the wood hewn from the large conifers in the area. San Martin de Los Andes was a lovely place to live. They had previously, aside from a few days of marital adjustment, been very happy here so with a bit of re-adjustment, Clarice thought they could be again.

Sitting on the overstuffed couch surveying her surroundings, Clarice settled in as the baby fed. It had been so many months, and so much had happened since they'd last been here that it seemed a lifetime ago. Nursing her baby at her breast, listening to her husband whistling along with the music traveling through the intercom system she realized, how happy her life here had been. Here they were not Hannibal and Clarice. Not for very long anyway. Here, their love was exciting and new, a little frightening even.

It was so intense those first days and weeks. _He_ was so intense. Somehow, nearly a year into their marriage, he had mellowed. There was a calm to him now, a stillness of soul that matched the too oft stillness of his body. She wondered if his mind, too, had calmed, though she suspected the internal firestorm still swirled within. It was simply that the power of his mind guided his actions. He had more self-control and command of himself than any person she had ever met. She often wished she had a larger share of it herself.

Seeing the baby finished nursing Clarice carried the baby with her to the kitchen.

"I'll be back in a little while, H."

"The boy is sated?"

"Yup. I'll give him a bath and put him to bed. Should be about an hour."

Hannibal simply nodded and went about the dinner preparation.

Clarice walked up to her husband, attempting to assess his mood before leaving to care for their son. She edged alongside leaning into his body resting her head on his shoulder. Hannibal, she was certain, sensed her curiosity. Hannibal too, she was certain, wouldn't reveal a thing. She turned her cheek against his shoulder, and lifted her face.

"Kiss me, my husband."

Hannibal, without turning his eyes from his preparations, kissed Clarice.

"Wow, _that_ was romantic."

"Put the child to bed, my Love. I shall be far more attentive after our meal when we are no longer in the company of our son."

"Come on, H. I doubt P.D.A.'s are of much interest to a three month old."

"That may be, but what is proper is proper and what is not proper, is not. I don't wish our physical relationship to be demonstrative in front of our children, Clarice. I would hope you are in agreement."

"Sure, H…behind closed doors. Got it."

Clarice reached up and playfully kissed her husband on his cheek.

Hannibal bristled. "_Clarice…"_

"Sorry, H…just one for the road."

Clarice carried their son from the room, unaware of her husband's satisfied smile.

* * *

By the time Clarice returned, Hannibal was setting bread for the meal on the kitchen table.

Surprised at the informality, Clarice questioned, "Don't want to eat in the dining room? Why not?"

"The dining room table is quite large. For our first dinner alone in our home, I wanted a more intimate setting, Clarice."

The table was simply set, with a single candle burning brightly at its center. Hannibal busied himself, placing a bowl of steaming seafood at Clarice's place setting. He was whistling along with a particularly plaintive operatic selection. A tenor, Clarice surmised. Italian, she guessed. The mood of the piece was difficult to pinpoint so she questioned Hannibal hoping to glean something of his current disposition.

"Smells great, what's for dinner?"

"Cioppino, Clarice."

"English, H."

"Think of it as a tomato based Italian stew consisting of shrimp, crab, clam, mussels, normally I might include a pound or two of halibut, but knowing your aversion to gilled beasts, I've substituted scallops this evening. It's a very clean, rustic meal. I've prepared fresh bread as well."

"It sounds lovely, H."

Hannibal held out the chair.

"Sit, Clarice, please."

Hannibal pushed his wife's chair toward the table, judging what he believed would be a comfortable distance. He then brushed his fingertips along her cheek settling for a moment at her jawline. Kissing the top of her head, he turned to retrieve his own dinner.

"Please begin eating, Clarice. We don't have to stand on ceremony in our own kitchen."

"Thanks, H."

As Clarice began eating, he returned with a bowl of his own, whistling along with the music. Clarice sought clarification.

"Whatcha whistling, H?"

"I pescatori di perle, Clarice."

"Again, English, H."

"The Pearl Fishers. This is the Beniamino Gigli recording."

Clarice ladled the food on the large spoon Hannibal provided. The dinner was so comforting and homey. Food preparation was not simply a hobby for Hannibal; it was more a manner of self-expression, an art form. The food he prepared often reflected his mood as much as the musical selections he chose. This meal spoke of his past. It spoke of hearth and home. The music? She needed to know.

"It really is a pretty song, but I can't decide if it's happy or sad."

"Is there a reason it must be one or the other? Can it not, perhaps be both?"

"I guess it can. So, you in a good mood?"

Hannibal lifted his wine glass, pausing mid-air as he considered the reason behind this particular question. It seemed to have more weight behind it than her normal conversational tone and as the candlelight flickered within her eyes, concern danced within as well.

"If you are about to voir dire, Clarice, I believe a direct question would yield better results."

Clarice dipped her spoon within the broth and took another bite. As she chewed, her eyes remained on her meal, attempting to regroup. Hannibal was far too perceptive for her to use any manner of intellectual flanking maneuver. She formed her statement just before taking an additional bite; her spoon was poised to dip as she spoke.

"Okay, H…Fair enough. I saw the letter on top of the piano."

Hannibal sipped his wine as he closely watched her expression and movement. His face neutral, the only movement the slight flaring of his nostrils as he gathered sensory input. Other than the shifting of his eyes, his reactions and emotional state remained a tightly closed book. His response to her comment consisted of one word, the inflection of which formed a question.

"Yes?"

Attempting to appear casual, Clarice continued to eat, pausing just long enough to pose a question of her own in response.

"It looked open, H…You read it?"

Hannibal raised an eyebrow unsure as to the direction this conversation would take. He had, after all previously offered for Clarice to read the letter. Perhaps she had.

_No. She is upset and therefore couldn't have read it or she would have found relief. It is quite clear in the letter that not only did I not love her, but that she did not find me worthy of love. One would think that would settle matters in her mind._

"Yes. I read it. Did you not?"

"No. It didn't seem right without you there. You okay?"

"_Okay?_ In what way?"

"Well, if what you've told me is true, and I'm sure it is, I think you might be a bit emotional about the whole thing. You told me your first kill was in defense of her honor."

"I was a young man, Clarice. I am no longer."

"You're still a man, and if she was your first love…"

Hannibal was absolutely adamant in his next statement.

"No, Clarice. She was not. You are my first, my one true love, my only love. Have I been so unclear?"

"No, it's not that..."

"Why, this late in our love, must I prove myself? I put myself in the hands of my enemies in the hope of granting us this chance at a life together. I have bled for you, Clarice. What more must I do?"

"Still…you had feelings for her. Hearing from her after all this time must have been…"

"Must have been what? I'm curious as to your take on this. Please, do enlighten me as to my own feelings."

"Sorry, H…I'm not trying to kick a hornet's nest or anything."

"That is precisely my point, Clarice. There is no proverbial hornet's nest. I am not disturbed and there is nothing for you to be concerned about. If you have a specific question, ask. If not, please allow me to finish my meal in some manner of peace."

Dispassionately, Hannibal returned his attention to his dinner.

Though she was clearly unsatisfied by his response, Clarice continued to eat as well though she could feel herself growing more and more anxious. She wanted answers but didn't have the questions or the emotional vocabulary with which to frame them.

She wanted Hannibal to validate her concerns, which of course, he would not. So, believing him to be hiding some deep-seated emotional trauma that he did not wish to address, she pursued questions in her mind. She searched the stories of his past. The segments pieced together over dozens of conversations.

_That woman hurt him. I don't know how, but I know she did and I hate her for it._

Hannibal's assertion that there were no answers to be had didn't seem a valid enough response for Clarice, so having finished her meal, she set down her spoon, pushed the bowl toward the center of the table and crossing her forearms in front of her, leaned her body closer to him.

Her voice taunted slightly as she urged, "Come on_, Hannibal_. Why can't you just be honest with me?"

"Since when, in my own home, is my honesty in question? And though I have done nothing more than attempt to prepare a romantic dinner, I am now Hannibal? Not H?"

Cleary hurt she asserted further, "Not H. Not even Hannibal. Hannibal Lecter. _Count Hannibal Lecter the Eighth_, descended from Hannibal the Grim."

The pronunciation of his title had an acerbic edge that was not wasted on Hannibal, though he chose not to respond more than to question the motivation behind her anger.

"Is there some reason you are mocking me, Clarice? Please do enlighten me, as I am not amused."

"You're not supposed to be amused. I'm trying to get your attention."

"Even as I prepared our meal, and watched with overwhelming feelings of love and admiration as you fed my son at your breast, you had my rapt attention, Clarice. Why, then are you seeking to instigate my ire?"

His declarations of love made Clarice feel the most idiotic, the most foolish she had ever felt. She sought to explain herself, even as she attempted to sort her emotions out for herself.

"I'm not…I mean, I'm not meaning to, anyway. I guess I'm feeling…I'm just so goddamned…I'm just so fucking…"

Suddenly, Hannibal understood.

"Jealous, Clarice?"

"Maybe…yeah, I'm jealous. I'm fucking jealous of a seventy-year old woman who lives half-way around the goddamned planet and it's making me crazy, partly because I don't know the whole truth, and partly because I don't see how this isn't freaking you out."

"There is no need."

"Yeah, well, you're not a woman and I am so, occasionally, I might just get pissed off about a lot of things there's probably no need for me to get pissed about. I'm just really emotional when it comes to thinking about you and other women. I know you love me and I know it doesn't make sense, but I can't help the way I feel, so there it is."

"Though I am not a woman, and by your assessment am therefore not as emotional; I am eternally thankful that you are, Clarice."

"Flirting isn't going to help you here, H…"

"Ah, you say so, and yet here I am, H again."

"Don't be such a wise-ass, H… I'm just…insecure, I guess."

"Again, there is no need. You know my feelings."

"I think I do…sometimes, I know…but, I can't bear to think of you with other women."

"I was never _with_ her and I've only ever wanted _you_, Clarice. As you have no equal in my eyes, there is nothing for you to be insecure about."

"Easy for you to say, I've only ever been with you so you don't have anything to be jealous about."

"If you had experienced other lovers, I would still have the same feelings for you, Clarice. I did not dare to hope you had remained chaste, yet still I desired you. Had you experienced other lovers, I would have taken it as a personal challenge to be your most satisfying and attentive lover and as such, would not have considered your previous partners my equal. Not only do I take loving you seriously, Clarice, providing a satisfying sexual relationship is a responsibility I take rather seriously. It is intensely important to me as your mate that you be sexually fulfilled."

"Well, I am, but it's not like I have anything to compare it to."

"From what you've told me, Ardelia has been somewhat specific in your conversations, openly discussing her sex life with Logan. If she feels discussing such personal things is an acceptable topic of conversation, I imagine you've done some sharing of your own?"

"Nothing as specific as she does. You're a private man. I wouldn't do that to you."

"And that is why we are together, Clarice. You have a moral center similar to my own. Have you told your friend that our physical relationship is satisfactory?"

"God, no!"

"I would be quite surprised if you were to judge our lovemaking as less than fulfilling, Clarice, but perhaps you are a better actress than I am a lover."

"What? I didn't mean it like that, H. It's a hell of a lot more than satisfactory, H. You're a wonderful lover. Trust me, there's no acting required."

"How would you know that I am a wonderful lover, Clarice? If I am the only man you've ever been with?"

"You know exactly how I know, H."

"Yes, I enjoy watching your expression in ecstasy, Clarice. You are absolutely captivating in orgasm."

"Oh, God, please can we talk about something else?"

Seeing his wife's need for reassurance, Hannibal took her by the hand.

"Where are we going, H?"

"We have finished our meal. I thought if you'll allow, I would like to escort you to the music room and allow you to read the letter, after which I intend to give you a massage, Clarice. You are obviously stressed and need to relax. You are breast feeding and I'm certain you wouldn't want to pass your anxiety along to our son."

"Okay, H."

* * *

Hannibal wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulled her close and escorted Clarice to the music room. Neither spoke, but Clarice did rest her head on Hannibal's chest, his heartbeat, slow and steady, was always a comfort to her.

When they reached the music room, Hannibal led Clarice to the couch a few feet from the piano. When he was certain she was comfortable he reached for the letter and handed it to Clarice.

"Please, my Love. Read."

Clarice took the envelope and slipped the letter from within. Holding the handwritten note, she hesitated, offering it back to her husband.

"H…you don't have to…I'm being ridiculous. I don't have anything to be jealous about and you don't have anything to prove to me."

Hannibal sat on the down filled couch and very gently pulled Clarice onto his lap. He pulled her body close, holding her so that she her back rested along his chest. He then unfolded the note and placed it in Clarice's hand. As she began to read, he very gently gathered her hair and draped it over her right shoulder allowing it to cascade down the front of her body.

"H…you don't have to."

"Please, I insist."

As Clarice read the letter, her eyes heated. By the time she reached the end, she was crying silently.

"H? I'm so sorry."

"Clarice, there is no need. She states nothing but the truth. I did not love her. I have only loved you. That she has regrets, I cannot control. Know that I have none."

Kissing her cheek, Hannibal began to massage his wife's deltoids, moving down with his thumbs, pressing into her flesh, his throat rumbled out a satisfied sigh, the sound reminding Clarice of a jungle cat purring. She sighed with pleasure as his strong fingers kneaded her flesh.

"H…Oh, God, H…your hands are magic."

"And you are enchanting, Clarice. I have long been under your spell."

Clarice leaned back, arching her body against his chest, attempting to turn and find his lips. Smiling as she squirmed, Hannibal followed her lead and turned her into his embrace, her bottom now nestled against his lap, her legs stretched out over his body and across the couch. She reached for her husband, slipping her hands around his neck, and pulling him close. She kissed him, playfully tugging at his lower lip with her teeth.

"Not in the mood for a massage, Clarice? It would serve to relax."

"I can think of a few other things that would serve to relax me a hell of a lot more than a massage and it'd be a lot more interactive, H."

"Your friends will not stay away all evening."

"No, but they promised to come in the front door and go directly to their wing. There's no reason for anyone to come in here anyway, H."

"I don't have to be asked twice, Clarice. I am all to happy to accommodate."

The first half hour, knowing Clarice would understand this was something that set her apart from other women, Hannibal did nothing more than kiss his wife, stroking her cheek, holding her tightly to his chest, occasionally allowing a few moments to mouth her throat, tasting the heat and the saltiness of her skin. Deeply inhaling her scent he traced his nose along the side of her face, memorizing the smooth curved surfaces, admiring her elegant bone structure.

Clarice searched his body with her hands. As lovers, they were well-matched. Neither lover inhibited, they were both exceptionally sensory driven, with touch, scent, taste driving their passion with Hannibal the more driven of the two.

"You are a gift, Clarice. From the moment I set eyes on you, my life has never been the same."

"It was the same with me, H. You turned my life upside down…still do."

Her scent was as heavy in the air as his and Hannibal could sense her impatience as her hands passed under his shirt.

"Soon, Clarice…let us not rush this. Now that young Hannibal is sleeping for longer periods, there is no reason we cannot enjoy one another."

Skimming her hand over his chest, turning it over his abdomen and passing it over his belt, Clarice massaged his groin, gripping and rubbing the flesh straining against his trousers.

Groaning deeply at her touch, Hannibal's head dropped, hanging low as he bit into his lower lip to stay his response.

Knowing he would rein in his response if she paused, Clarice held him in her hand gripping his length through his trousers, applying pressure gently as she whispered in his ear playfully, "You say one thing and your body says another, H…I wonder which will win?"

"If you continue holding me in such a way, neither of us will win, my Love as it has been several days and my need is such that it will be over before we begin."

"Fair enough, H…I'll give you a minute to regroup."

She was warm and soft, her touch so very tender as her palms floated over and under his clothed flesh that his heart surged. She had a way, his Clarice, of both calming his body and enflaming it with a look or a touch. Now, he was accustomed to the experience but initially the stimulation overwhelmed, as it was something he had never experienced. The mere scent of her could soothe or send his mind and body to dizzying heights, balancing on the edges of ecstasy.

Giving him the time to settle himself, Clarice placed very tender kisses over his bruises and whispered her love for him. The hands on his body he could overlook in order to stay his passion, but what he couldn't overlook or ignore was her voice in his ear telling him how much she wanted him inside her. How much she wanted to please him, to have him please her.

Nuzzling close, he could detect the flash burn on her cheek, the flecks of powder deeply ingrained, now a part of her being. As he planted tender kisses, he whispered his love to her in her ear, desperately reminding not to reach for her breasts too soon, though the scent of her milk was filling his nostrils causing the saliva to flood his cheeks.

Clarice could feel his body to continuing to respond, the hardness causing her to shift in his lap, both to confirm his arousal and to encourage his body's response. Hannibal groaned at the contact as he continued to kiss his wife, his tongue gently teasing her lips, slipping tenderly within her mouth, sweeping and twirling against her tongue.

Growing frustrated, Clarice pushed Hannibal's shoulders, forcing his body from hers. She left his lap and sat beside him, opening her blouse to him. Hannibal's eyes locked on her body as she took a deep breath, released the front clasp of her bra and drawing back the fabric, freed her breasts, quickly peaking in the open air.

Hannibal inhaled deeply, held the breath for a moment and exhaled slowly through pursed lips. His eyes fixed, nostrils flaring as he gathered her scent. His heart began thumping soundly in his chest as he stared unapologetically ahead, his eyes measuring the fullness of her breasts, his mouth falling open as he imagined taking her here, now.

"Clarice…"

She reached for him.

"C'mon, H…"

Unable to exercise the self-control his mind suggested he must, Hannibal bent his head to her body, captured her flesh and sucked gently, teasing the life's fluid from her breast. As he latched firmly, he stood from the couch and without releasing his hold, began to remove his shirt. Frustrated with the process, and unwilling to release his hold on Clarice's breast, Hannibal grabbed her hands and placed them on his chest; a silent request for her assistance.

Clarice whispered playfully in his ear, "What's the matter, can't handle a couple of buttons, Big Guy?"

Drinking hungrily, Hannibal's reply was a simple, "Uhn-uh," as he was unwilling to release his hold on her flesh. Closing his eyes as Clarice undressed him, he allowed the sensory input continually flooding his body fill his mind.

Hannibal concentrated on the fabric of his silk shirt as she pushed it from his shoulders, the feel of it slipping across bare skin, her hands on his flesh, he could feel the rumble in the back of his throat as he growled his pleasure. Her hands reached for the strap of his belt, quickly tugging it open. She fumbled with the clasp of his trousers and struggled to tug his zipper down, careful not to catch his body in the teeth as she attempted to lower the slide.

As she dealt with his trousers, Hannibal began to undress his wife as well, slipping the blouse from her shoulders, taking the bra with it.

Clarice tugged his trousers, boxers and all down over his hips, releasing his body.

Overwhelmed, the couple quickly wrestled with the logistics of the remaining snaps and buttons, tugging and pulling at fabric, sliding and twisting until soon both partners were naked, Clarice resting on the couch, and Hannibal standing over her, his chest heaving from his overwhelming want of her. Clarice grabbed his hips in an attempt to pull him closer, but he stood his ground.

"Hurry, H…you're killing me."

"Allow a moment, my Love. I'd just like to look at you."

Hannibal paused, admiring her body, urgency not a concern. His body was far too battered to rush the process; not that the likelihood of a bit of pain mixing in would be off-putting to him, quite the contrary, it might prove to heighten his arousal, though he dared not mention that to Clarice. She was upset enough earlier about the letter. He didn't want to channel memories of Emilia within her mind as well.

Placing one knee on the couch, Hannibal leaned toward Clarice, lifting her legs, draping them over his hips. He then reached below poising at her center covering her body with his wrapping her left arm around her body, pulling her close.

He shifted his hips and traced his arousal at her entrance, testing her readiness. Her scent sweet and heavy he took hold of his body and slowly pressed within. As he filled her, he listened and was soon rewarded with that sweet whisper of a sigh, that luscious sound she made each and every time they joined.

"You are an angel, my Love."

Clarice wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling up toward his face, whispering against his cheek, playfully encouraging, "Then take me to heaven, H…"

Moving slowly, allowing himself the opportunity to test his muscles, Hannibal withdrew leisurely, not fully, just to the very edges of her body, not wanting to lose contact with the warmth of her flesh.

Thinking he was teasing, Clarice tensed her muscles, holding him within.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Just testing my limits, Clarice."

Hannibal rested his body against Clarice, his mouth at her throat, biting, teasing as he gradually pressed forward once more, careful the angle of his body created enough pressure and friction to prove pleasing to his wife. He listened to her breathing, slow and steady, the pace matching her husband's movements.

His left arm wrapped around his wife, Hannibal searched her body with his right, skimming the curves, the undulations created by her muscles as she rolled her hips to meet his. Settling his palm on the arc of her hip he stroked his thumb from the hollow to the crest as he spoke low in her ear.

"You are magnificent, Clarice…if I were to sculpt the perfect woman, both the figure and countenance would be yours. You rival Venus."

Clarice cupped her hands, cradling his face.

"You always say that, H."

Circling the tip of her nose with his own, then tracing over her cheeks he inhaled her scent as he spoke.

"I say it because it's true. There was a time when I placed my cheek along the cool marble flank of Venus to bring me comfort. Now, it is you, your body, your warmth, only you who brings me peace."

"I hope so, H…that's what I want…that's all I want."

Her legs hooked over his hips, Clarice lifted her body to meet his. Their rhythm was deliberate, unhurried as each partner explored their lover with their mouths and hands. Soon, the leisurely pace of Hannibal's long, slow strokes took on more purpose, more urgency. As he pressed forward, his hips meeting hers, Hannibal wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. The weight of his body heavy on her own, she reached to pull him closer still as the angle of his hips drove Clarice toward the heights of arousal.

Listening to her breathing, Hannibal sensed her end approaching.

Suddenly Hannibal lifted his head quickly, all movement halting.

"Clarice, your friends have returned."

"H…I wouldn't care if they were both standing next to your piano, Dee knows better, come on…H…don't make me beg."

"They're your friends, Clarice. I'll trust, though they are close, Logan especially."

"I told them we needed privacy. He's an idiot, but he's not that big of an idiot, H...God don't stop…H…please, don't stop…"

"I shall trust you, my Love."

Forgetting about Logan, throwing caution to the wind, Hannibal returned his attention to his love, his mouth now searching her body. Cupping her breast with his right hand he rolled his thumb over the tip, and surged toward Clarice to quickly capture her breast with his mouth.

She sighed, and airy near breathless sound of want, as her husband began moving within. Her sweet outbreath was joyful, and contented as her lover

"Clarice…my Clarice."

Clarice gripped her husband's shoulders, her body tensing as the sensations began to swirl and pool deep within her.

"Oh…H…H…"

"You're mine, Clarice…all mine…always…"

"Yes…always…always, H."

His body leading, coaxing hers, Hannibal teased at her breast, floating his palm over the surface, circling the tip now tightening against his touch. Feeling the response of her flesh as he traced his palm, Hannibal gently stroked his thumb over the tip, tracing little patterns of infinity, as his body moved within hers.

"How do you feel, my Love?"

"Perfect, H…perfect…oh, god…you're perfect."

"You're perfect, Clarice…you…are…perfect."

His own passion soaring, Hannibal hastened the movements, long deep caresses within his wife, feeling her body gripping and releasing his own. They had learned each other well, knowing how to touch one another while their whispers of love and desire drove their passions.

He reached for her breast, glancing his teeth along the tightly pebbled flesh, the sting causing Clarice to gasp. At the sweet sound of her pain, Hannibal's mind flooded with emotions. He wanted to hear the sound again. He wanted to make her moan, to cry out her passion…to scream his name.

Pulling her close, crushing his body against hers as they moved together, his voice husky with passion he urged, "Come, my Love…speak to me…"

His hips rolling to meet hers, Hannibal trapped her breast within his front teeth, slowly closing, increasing the pressure so gradually the pain didn't shock, instead tingling along her nerve endings, sweet stinging pins and needles spreading throughout her body, driving her passion.

Clarice clutched her husband's head and moaned very softly, a cry almost, as the intense pressure heated her flesh, still so slowly she didn't feel the need to call out, instead arching her back, offering more.

Growling his want, Hannibal moved steadily, his body rocking with hers as he furthered his own end, his teeth now just barely piercing the flesh.

A slight tinge of metallic warmth and the sweetness of her breast flooded Hannibal's mouth as his teeth further closed on her flesh, the milk mixing with a tiny trickle of blood as his incisor nicked a duct. The taste delicious to him, groaning, Hannibal sucked hard, and thrust deep within.

The intensity of the contact caused Clarice to cry out in a combination of pain and pleasure as she clutched his body close, shuddering with the beginnings of her ecstasy. She called his name, trembling in his arms as the spasms of her climax rattled her body. Hannibal pulled her against him, squeezing her possessively to his chest, as the intensity of his own rapture began to build a low rolling warmth that tumbled within causing him to shudder in her arms.

Clarice, feeling his body pulse within, clutched his shoulders.

"Come, H…For me...only for me…"

Her voice at his ear forced Hannibal from the edges of desire, sending his mind crashing toward his end, a ferocious half-groan half-growl as his body pulsated within Clarice and he claimed her once more as his own.

* * *

Logan was in the hallway, just a few steps from the piano room waiting for Ardelia to put Clarice's keys in the crystal dish by the front door.

When Clarice called out, Logan's ears pricked.

"Hey, Dee…did you hear that?"

Dropping the keys and arming the security system Ardelia turned.

"I didn't hear anything."

Logan was alert and agitated, "It was Clarice…I know it was…"

Ignoring his worry, she reassured, "She's fine. Hannibal's here."

"Yeah, but maybe that's the problem. He was upset, or pissed. What if…"

"What if, what?"

"I don't know. Maybe something's wrong. She said she'd holler."

"If she hollered, I would've heard her."

Suddenly, as Hannibal nicked her breast, Clarice called out. Thinking her pleasure was pain, Logan turned to Ardelia.

"It's coming from the music room. That's where the letter is…"

"They're fine, Logan."

His hand was now on the handle of the door.

"I'm gonna check."

Ardelia reached for his arm and tugged back, her voice urging reason.

"Logan, don't…"

Suddenly, Hannibal's roar caused Logan to pull from Ardelia, and slap at the handle of the door. It took two steps for him to enter.

It took four before he wished he never had.


	3. Chapter 3

**APOLOGIES**

Catching Logan's scent moving with haste toward the music room, Hannibal reached for his silk shirt. He slipped his hand behind Clarice's back, pulled his wife up to a seated position and quickly slipped her arms through the garment.

Shocked, Clarice protested vehemently, "H? _What the hell?"_

Hannibal buttoned the shirt with uncommon speed. "It's because of Logan, Clarice."

"_What?"_

Suddenly, Logan burst into the room with as fierce a look as his sweet face could muster, much like a puppy taking hold of a bone. Believing he was about to commit a heroic act, when he saw Hannibal and realized what he had just interrupted, was instantly crestfallen. Mortified, his shoulders and his head dropped low, his eyes upturned, contritely fixed on Hannibal as he was now forced to face his hero not as a savior, but as the unintentional voyeur he had unwittingly become.

Hannibal's hands smoothed up and down his wife's arms. He was secure that Clarice was fully covered and being absolutely unconcerned that he was not, spoke very calmly, "Is there something I can help you with, Logan?"

Realizing what he had just walked in on, in utter shock staring at the couple like a deer caught in the headlights, Logan Marley stood stock still, literally terrified, unmoving.

His heart pounded as he explained, "Oh, god…oh, god…I'm sorry. I heard a scream and thought one of you guys was hurt."

Thankful she was covered, Clarice clutched the shirt close to her body, continually tugging it down over her bare thighs. Self-conscious, she was relieved her husband had detected Logan's presence before she was seen in a more compromising position. Horrified, Clarice shouted.

"What the hell, Logan? Are you _crazy_ busting in here like that?"

Panicking at her anger and even more terrified of Hannibal's potential wrath, Logan defended, his voice cracked with desperation, "Yeah, well…I told you I was worried about Doctor Lecter, and you said you'd holler if you needed me! I thought you needed me! You hollered! _You hollered!_"

Standing in front of the man, suddenly Logan felt more naked than Hannibal.

_Why did I just call him Doctor Lecter? Because I blew it!_ _Somewhere deep down I know he's not my friend, anymore. _

"I assure you, Logan, she did not, as you say,_ holler_, though perhaps the sound of a woman in orgasm is not something with which you are intimately familiar, so I'll not fault you for that. Know that while I appreciate your enthusiasm, I am fully capable of attending my wife's needs."

Standing carefully from Clarice so as not to shift her modest covering, his own nudity clearly not an issue for him, Hannibal strode purposefully toward Logan.

Clearly panicked, Logan's body was visibly shaking as Hannibal approached.

"Doc…Doc…I'm sorry…I didn't know…I didn't know."

Ardelia, hearing the apology walked down the hall, standing just outside the still open door in full view of Logan she questioned, "What's going on? What the hell did you do?"

Knowing he was in trouble, he sought not to compound the situation and began pleading, "Don't come in, Dee! Don't come in!"

Hannibal spoke as he moved forward with his head lowered and his body still fully flushed. His voice was eerily calm as he walked across the room, unabashed.

"Of course you didn't know, Logan. Clarice and I chose not to issue invitations to our lovemaking, as we were not seeking an audience."

"I thought she was hurt!"

Hannibal was now in striking distance. Though he was the much larger of the two men, Logan was shaking uncontrollably.

His voice edged with sarcasm, Hannibal replied, "Hurt? No, quite the opposite in fact."

Logan stood, slack-jawed and incredulous.

"I don't know what to say, Doctor Lecter."

Hannibal reached for Logan's shoulders, turned the much larger man's body toward the door and guided him very physically through the opening.

"A bit of advice, if you don't know what to say nothing, say nothing, Logan. Remember, if you choose _not_ to speak, people will doubt your ignorance. If you choose _to_ speak, you remove all doubt. Now, if you'll excuse me, my wife and I will be a moment longer. If you would like to join us for dessert, you may wait in the family room."

"Yeah…okay. We'll be in the family room. Sorry…"

"There's no need to continually apologize, Logan. How can I be angry with you knowing you had my wife's safety in mind? We will join you shortly."

Seeing the situation, Ardelia stood outside the door with her mouth hanging open desperately attempting to control her eyes, focusing on Hannibal's face in an attempt not to look at that which she had clearly already seen.

Now partially blocked by the door, smiling politely, Hannibal nodded an acknowledgement and spoke in a friendly tone.

"Hello, Ardelia. Logan was just leaving. If you will both excuse me."

As Logan stumbled into the hallway, Hannibal closed the door and returned to Clarice.

* * *

Hearing Hannibal direct Logan to the family room, Clarice was not pleased.

"Why did you tell him we'd join them for dessert? The absolute last thing I want to do in this entire world is sit across from him and make polite conversation. I want to crawl in a hole and die!"

Hannibal stood beside his piano walking his fingers across the keys, listening, but clearly not agreeing.

"Why?"

"For Christ's sake, H…He saw us!"

Leaving his piano, walking back to his wife, Hannibal corrected, "_No_, he saw _me_. You were fully covered."

Clarice began unbuttoning Hannibal's shirt, clearly preparing to remove it.

"Okay, so he didn't see me but he did see you, so he knows exactly what we were doing. It's not like we can hide it, you're still hard for Christ's sake."

Showing no outward signs of concern, Hannibal began to dress himself, hitching his boxers over his hips.

"I remember warning you quite clearly. I told you earlier that he was very near and you asserted Logan wasn't stupid enough to burst in the room, therefore, Clarice and if you'll forgive me, I shall make no apologies for making love to my wife in my own home. As for my nudity, you are forgetting Logan was with me during my incarceration therefore it's nothing he's not already seen."

"He didn't see you erect in prison, H!"

Slipping on his trousers and very carefully sliding the zipper upward, Hannibal was patently unimpressed by the comment.

"Why should that matter? He has a penis, Clarice. He understands how they work."

"He has a penis, but he doesn't have as much of a…"

Suddenly Clarice's expression shifted from Logan, as an obviously much more pressing thought had come to mind.

"Oh, God! Was Dee out there?"

Sitting on the sofa beside Clarice, Hannibal put on his socks, then slipped on his wingtips and began to tie them. When he straightened, he stood up again and answered.

"Yes. Why do you ask."

Clarice, knowing she would have to dress before leaving the room, began to remove Hannibal's shirt. She was obviously upset as she questioned, "So…_she_ _saw you?"_

Threading his belt through the loops and tightening the strap he secured the buckle and confirmed her worst fears without apology.

"Yes, momentarily. Why? Are you that ashamed of me, Clarice?"

"No, H, of course not, but, well, I've never told her how…"

She really wanted to say that she'd never told Ardelia he was hung like a horse, but she thought that might sound absolutely ridiculous to Hannibal, so she regrouped.

"No. I'm not ashamed of you, H. I love everything about your body, really. I'm just freaked out. It's okay."

Hannibal handed Clarice her clothing, trading her garments for his shirt, speaking as he finished dressing.

"Please take into consideration that this is only as awkward as we make it, my Love. Let us attempt to handle this with some dignity and a modicum of maturity, shall we? As I am in no hurry to wash your scent from me, I shall tend to our guests while you shower. When you have calmed sufficiently, please, join us."

Hannibal tucked his shirt into his trousers, adjusting both the shirttails and his manhood, shaking his boxers and adjusting his pant leg to seek a comfortable position.

Clarice, now beginning to see the humor in the situation, teased her husband, "Having a tough time wrangling the beast, H?"

"Yes, well…I should've liked another go, Clarice, but we'll save that for the privacy of our bedroom. Agreed?"

"Before or after we revisit your policy on locking doors, H? Logan is one thing but when Little Man is walking, we don't want him busting in on us like that."

"Your point is well-taken, my Love."

* * *

By the time they arrived in the family room, Ardelia was fit to be tied. She threw herself onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands, clearly mortified.

"Oh my God, Logan! Are you kidding me? We told Clarice we would give them privacy and she trusted us! Why did you open that door? Hannibal was naked and I swear to god I did not need to see that!"

"Okay, let's not make such a big deal about this."

"_Let's not make a big deal?_ Jesus Christ, Logan, it's a huge deal! I just saw my best friend's husband naked and I'll never look at that man the same way again! Not to mention the fact that Clarice is going to be freaking pissed off."

Logan sat on the sofa with his face was as white as a sheet. Needing comfort, he put his arms around Ardelia and lowered his head to her shoulder for support. He looked as if he was going to be sick.

"My God, Dee…Dude, they were totally in the middle of it! They were just totally doing it and I walked into the middle of it! I'm dead! Oh man…I'm a fucking dead man walking."

Looking equally pale, Ardelia commiserated, "I know. Holy shit, I can't believe he just walked up to you naked and pushed you out of the room. I was scared to death."

Now slowly animating, Logan sat up and faced Ardelia with a mixture of awe and incredulity lighting his features. Excited, his hands were over-gesticulating as he recounted his experience.

"You saw it, right? Holy shit he was buck-naked pitching wood and everything! He seriously just scared the shit out of me. It was like a freaking lion stalking toward me, I was that damned scared I couldn't even freaking move! I felt like a runt wildebeest or a wounded zebra about to get eaten or something. Christ, he's scarier naked if that's even possible."

Reality dawning, Ardelia warned, "You think _Hannibal's_ scary? Just wait 'til you hear it from _Clarice_."

* * *

The moment Hannibal arrived in the kitchen he busied himself making coffee.

Logan spotted his arrival from the adjoining room and quickly jumped to his feet running to meet his friend. He extended his hand to Hannibal as he apologized profusely.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor Lecter, I was way outta line. I just heard…well, you know what I heard."

Hannibal took the offered hand, accepting Logan's apology.

"No harm, though I'm confused as to why you have chosen to continually use my title in such a formal manner, rather than my Christian name or the familiar, Doc, you've been using to address me as of late. Have I offended you so much that we are no longer friends?"

"No…No, I don't know why, I just thought _I'd _screwed up our friendship."

Hannibal returned to the snack preparation. The whole support-Logan's-neediness thing was really wearing on him, but deeming it necessary for Clarice's comfort, Hannibal allowed the emotional intrusion.

"Not at all. It is I who should apologize to both you and Ardelia. Realizing we had guests, my wife and I should have contained activities of an amorous nature to our bedroom, but Clarice's beauty is such that I find my self-control is, at times, severely lacking."

Suddenly excited, Logan agreed whole-heartedly, "Can't say as I blame you… I mean Clarice is really hot!"

Seeing a flash of displeasure in Hannibal's crimson eyes, Logan immediately thought better of the comment.

"Sorry, Doc. I didn't mean anything by that. Trust me. I didn't see a thing!"

"Logan, I understand my wife is exceedingly attractive. I am quite proud that although other men desire her, she desires me."

Realizing he had yet to deal with Clarice, Logan's head dropped.

"Doc, what do I do? She's gonna be so mad at me."

Plating the pastries and placing plates and utensils on the large granite counter separating the kitchen from the family room Hannibal consoled, "Nonsense, she's fine, though perhaps a few minutes and some distance might prove more comfortable for all concerned. Perhaps you wouldn't mind accompanying me on a walk around the property? I think Clarice might want to spend some time with Ardelia without the benefit of male companionship."

"You really mean without me around here to freak her out?"

"Not at all. Please trust that she's fine, Logan. Clarice is an adult and as such, understands that occasionally these things happen. I shall set out the pastry and the coffee for the women. We can partake when we return. I'm planning on putting in a pool as a surprise for Clarice and I'd like your opinion as to a suitable location."

"Sure Doc…sure."

* * *

Ardelia hadn't said a word, never moving from her seat in the family room. She knew she had to face Clarice. It just wasn't something to which she was looking forward.

Clarice entered wearing an oversized FBI sweatshirt and sweatpants. Freshly showered, her hair was washed and pulled back in a neat ponytail. Her makeup, what little she wore, had been removed. Unaware that Hannibal had taken Logan from the home, Clarice entered the room with no small measure of anxiety.

_It's no big deal…he didn't even see me. Thank God Hannibal smelled him coming or whatever, and covered me. Still, Ardelia saw H…not that he cared, but…she's probably worried…Fuck!_

Entering the family room, Clarice discovered Ardelia curled up on the couch clutching a pillow to her chest. Hearing Clarice, she looked up.

"Hey, Girl. Sorry for all the drama."

Clarice plopped herself on the sofa directly beside her friend. She grabbed a pillow and similarly hugged it, drawing her knees up and tucking them under her body.

"No drama, Dee. It is what it is. There's no sense freaking out about it."

"Logan's really embarrassed. He just feels so protective of you and Hannibal…"

Though she said nothing, Clarice's eyes scanned for Hannibal and Logan.

"I know. He didn't mean anything by it. It's okay."

Comforted that her friend wasn't angry, Ardelia turned her body to face Clarice, tucking the pillow behind her as if lessening the distance between them.

"I just want you to know he didn't see anything."

Clarice rolled her eyes.

Realizing Logan _had _seen Hannibal, _hell they both saw Hannibal_, she was forced to regroup.

"Well, I mean he didn't see _your _anything."

She hoped Clarice wouldn't pursue the conversation further, though knowing Clarice that was unlikely.

The moment Clarice furthered the conversation Ardelia's heart sank.

"Yeah, I know he saw H's everything. So did you, I think."

She looked. She did. She looked and she saw him Not that she _meant _to, but how could she avoid it? It wasn't like she had any warning. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Logan yelled not to come in, but he didn't say Hannibal was naked, for Christ's sake. There was no way out and Ardelia was mortified, "Sorry, Clarice. I'm so embarrassed."

Seeing the look of utter shame on her friend's face, Clarice reassured.

"You don't have to be, it's not like Hannibal really cares about it. I mean, he's been naked in front of so many people I think he's kind of immune to any embarrassment about it."

"Still, he's _your husband_."

"It's not as if you cheated with him or anything. Not to mention, he's got nothing to be ashamed of."

Relieved, Ardelia laughed, "That's for sure. As if Logan didn't think your husband was a god before, he sure as hell does now."

Again, Clarice shifted her body position and looked around the room.

"Speaking of which, where are they?"

"Hannibal took Logan for a look around the compound."

"Any particular reason?"

"He said something about planning a surprise for you, but I think Hannibal was just trying to give you a little time to readjust."

Knowing Hannibal gave her a brief reprieve from Logan, Clarice visibly relaxed.

"That's what I love about my husband. He's always willing to take one for the team."

* * *

The men walked the acres leading to the stable where Hannah was kept. Hannibal lifted latch on the barn door, allowing them to enter. As Hannibal filled the animal's water and food dispensers Logan was surprised to see the animal.

"Wow, you guys have a horse?"

"Yes, we may get another. I have yet to decide. I purchased Hannah for Clarice as a gift several months ago, but had the animal boarded with the previous owner until our return. She was delivered very early the morning we arrived. Though my wife's only had the opportunity to ride the morning the horse was delivered, it was quite a thing to watch, something so large being fully controlled by someone so small. She is impressive, my Clarice. The beast responds to her every whim."

"I can imagine. She scares the _hell_ out of me."

"It is true. If I were to fear anyone, it would be Clarice. Such is her power over me."

A warm breeze swooped across the paddock and through the barn, causing Hannibal's nostrils to flare. His eyes seemed to glow as he turned both his head and body, continually searching the air for the source of the scent. A similar gust produced identical results.

Though he was certain he recognized the scent, the prospect of it seemed unlikely so he questioned, "Logan? Do you smell that?"

Leaning to smooth his hand over the bristled muzzle of the horse, Logan was paying little attention to Hannibal's movements. It was probably a good thing; the glow of his eyes being much more intense than was the norm.

Continuing to pet the horse, Logan asked, "Smell what? The horse?"

Although the persistence of the scent agitated Hannibal, his exterior showed no sign of distress. Responding calmly, he continued, "No. I am not speaking of the horse. I am referring to the fetid scent of death nearby."

"Well, we saw a cougar on the drive up from the main gate. Maybe it killed an animal. It may have left a deer or a goat carcass nearby."

"No, Logan. Though the location of the scent does indicate the area of the main gate, _this_ carcass is _human_."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	4. Chapter 4

**HUMAN SACRIFICE**

Hannibal swung open the barn door and stepped outside into the breeze, his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring as he searched the air for the scent. Not satisfied, he thought creating a wind tunnel effect within the barn through the center of the twelve-stall aisle might be a more effective way to concentrate the scent.

Hannibal Lecter, in his element in full predator mode, stalked to the other end of the barn and threw open the opposite door as well, shaking his shoulders as he loosened his muscles, preparing to hunt.

_Very well, my friend, have you remained, and if not, what have you left for me? _

The wind was now being funneled down the long center aisle of the barn therefore Hannibal stood at the far end, squared his shoulders, faced the wind and allowed the rushing breeze to swirl around his face. He turned his cheeks from side to side collecting the scent on his face, his chin upturned to more fully gather the scent. When he was certain he had come to a determination, Hannibal closed the door at the far end and went to the tack room to retrieve a bridle.

Logan had been more than a little pre-occupied watching Hannibal track the scent, though he was a little freaked out by the glowing maroon shining out from the darkness. He nervously questioned Hannibal.

"You look like a man with a plan, Doc. What's going on?"

Without answering, Hannibal set the bit and affixed the bridle.

Watching carefully, Logan said nothing.

After buckling the bridle, Hannibal returned into the tack room and retrieved the English saddle.

When it dawned on Logan that his friend was about to take the animal out, thinking of Clarice, the younger man panicked. He began bouncing around Hannibal like a five year old trying to get his father's attention.

"Look Doc, if there's a body out there by the gate we'd better go and tell Clarice and Ardelia. They're not going to want us to go down there without them."

Opening Hannah's stall, Hannibal hefted the saddle onto the animal's back and secured the cinch strap.

Logan's voice was beginning to sound desperate as he crowded the stall, hoping to dissuade Hannibal.

"Seriously, you can't just go ride down there and check out a dead body. We can all go down there in the car, together. It would be safe. We could lock the doors and keep all the windows rolled up and everything. That way, Clarice won't go bat shit insane!"

The saddle secured, Hannibal confidently mounted the horse and laying the reins along the horse's neck, turned the animal and began walking him toward the open door.

"I will not place my wife, my child or Ardelia in jeopardy as there is the scent of an adult male in the area. If it is the killer, it would be best if the element of surprise was maintained."

Logan was now skipping and running sideways alongside the horse trying to talk Hannibal out of this course of action.

"How do you know it's a killer? Maybe some old guy just kicked the bucket at your main gate. Maybe he was trying to get help or something? You can't tell it's a murder victim just because you smell a body."

Hannibal carefully walked the horse down the ramp leading to the walking path. He paused for a moment, again searching the air. His thoughts confirmed, he explained.

"The scent isn't strong enough to denote an entire body. This is more likely a body _part_, so, unless someone has figured out a way to survive a decapitation, and the body walked away without benefit of the head, it's most likely just the cranium, brain exposed."

"A head? Just a fucking opened head? How can you tell that?"

Hannibal stood up in the saddle as much as the saddle would allow.

"The scent of brain is fairly distinct."

"That's fucked up!"

Smiling a particularly wicked smile, Hannibal agreed.

"It certainly is for the gentleman whose head it was."

Clearly amused, Hannibal turned the animal and headed down the long path to the main gate. Looking over his shoulder, he called back to Logan.

"My friend, if you'd please secure the door and inform Clarice, I would be most appreciative. Tell her I will return once I've surveyed the area and have re-stalled her horse. At that time, I'm certain we will have to notify the authorities, though I'll leave that to her capable hands as she has had far better luck dealing with law enforcement than I."

Logan waved, as if seeing a loved one off on a cruise.

"Yeah, I guess that's an understatement. Okay, I'll handle it but I'm pretty sure Clarice is gonna be really pissed off."

Having traveled no more than fifteen feet down the path, Hannibal halted the horse and turned toward Logan in an effort to more fully assert this point.

"I shall gladly face my wife's anger rather than jeopardize her safety. It is far more important that my son have his mother alive and well, rather than chance she be injured in an attempt to feed her ego."

Logan trotted down the path and stood by Hannibal's right leg and held the horses bridle like a squire might while attending his knight.

"Okay, but I'm warning you straight up that Clarice scares the shit out of me so when you goes bullshit, I'm totally blaming this on you, Doc."

"Not to worry, Logan. My shoulders are strong enough to handle the weight of the blame."

"I just wanted to give you the head's up."

"Thank you, Logan. While I appreciate the warning I am relying on you to keep the women safely within the home and secure the alarm. Suggest to Clarice that she will be able to watch my progress safely by observing the security monitors. Hopefully, that will occupy her sufficiently. I don't want any chances taken with my family's safety. I am placing my trust in you with all that I hold dear. Please do not take that trust lightly."

"Doc, I'd never let you down. I swear I'd die before I let anything happen to Clarice or little dude."

"Of that, I am certain."

Hannibal turned the horse down the path, moving at a slow canter along the edges of the driveway. He was careful to keep the horse on the soft grassy border along the gravel road. To anyone in the area it would sound like an animal moving through the brush and as such, would not raise suspicion.

The only sound was the rustle of the wind through the conifers and the sound of the animal breathing. The scent of decay was prominent as a myriad of sensory information wafting on the breeze carried the aroma of the crime to Hannibal's hypersensitive nostrils.

_The scent of the man is fading. He is no longer in the area. A car or truck was used. Diesel engine, burning oil, it is an older model vehicle. Pre-catalytic converter as the exhaust is quite prominent. _

Coming upon the scene, Hannibal walked the animal on the grass, careful not to approach the area that might be considered part of the crime scene. There was a decapitated head sitting within a large metallic tub filled with ice. The body part had been surrounded within a very tightly woven wire mesh and the mesh had been wired to the barrel, Hannibal presumed to prevent animals from accessing the meat. The skullcap had been very meticulously removed in order to expose the brain and had been used as a bowl to protect the trimmed ends of the neck, neatly cradled within.

This was very obviously an offering, as the head was surrounded by fifteen or twenty very small, hand carved figurines depicting skeletons, the most significant piece appeared to have been carved from some type of bone.

Leaning so far over in the saddle Hannibal that was forced to shift his legs to offset his own weight, he read the note attached to the mesh of the head. In very neat printing the envelope read_: I entreat you, San La Muerte._

Understanding the significance of this folk Catholic ritual, now satisfied that at least for the moment, his family was safe, Hannibal turned the horse and rode off at a gallop enjoying the fresh air and the rhythm of the animal's hooves pounding the ground.

It had been quite some time since last he rode, calling back memories of his childhood. This horse was quite well trained and exceptionally responsive to leg commands leading Hannibal to compliment himself on the selection of this particular Andalusian mare.

Arriving at the barn, Hannibal dismounted, removed the saddle and bridle, carrying them to the tack room. He wiped down the leather, cleaned the bit, brushed the animal down and returned Hannah to her stall. He then jogged to the house, realizing that Clarice had, no doubt, watched every moment of his inspection of the scene on the security system.

Upon reaching the entrance of their home, Hannibal was met at the front door by Clarice.

"What the hell is going on, H? Is there really a body by the gate like Logan says? The camera only shows something that looks like a metal barrel."

Hannibal removed his jacket, hanging it in the closet near the front door. His movements were relaxed, belying the nature of his recent foray to the main gate.

"There is a disembodied head placed within the barrel. We'll need the local authorities as I doubt the gentleman surrendered his head willingly, though there is most definitely a sacrificial nature to the crime."

Standing beside her husband, Clarice slipped her hand within his, obviously wanting to channel some of his ease.

She leaned against him as she questioned, "What do you mean sacrificial nature?"

Understanding her need, Hannibal squeezed her hand, and gently began to stroke his thumb along the joining of their hands.

"There is a note attached that entreats the intercession of San La Muerte. The head is meant as an offering."

Ardelia spoke up, "Why would anyone leave a head at your main gate as an offering?"

Believing he had the answer, Logan was excited.

"Cuz our man here's a cannibal. They're dropping off a little take out!"

Ardelia slapped Logan's arm causing the large man to yelp.

"What the hell's wrong with you? You get dropped on your head when you were a baby?"

"Hey, cut that out! You know slaps hurt…a lot. I'd rather get punched than slapped. They sting like hell!"

Ardelia bunched up her fingers and playfully brandished her fist.

"_Don't tempt me_, Logan."

Logan grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands to him, trapping her fists to his large chest, pulling her close.

"Hey, if you're gonna beat me, let's go to our bedroom and I'll let you!"

Ardelia laughed flirtatiously, "You would too, you're a freak show!"

"Like I said, bedroom and I'll show you just how freaky I am."

Aggravated at the behavior of her friends, Clarice glared at the pair.

"Seriously, you two? There's a fucking head at my main gate and your screwing around?"

Ardelia pulled her hands free and slapped Logan once more.

"'See! Now you've gone and upset Clarice!"

"That's it, we've got to go sit and figure this out!"

Clarice took Hannibal by the hand and walked, tugging him from the foyer to the kitchen.

Appearing contrite, Logan and Ardelia followed.

Clarice spoke as she dragged an amused Hannibal through the house.

"Okay we need the cops, so what do we do? We should make a plan. I don't want you involved, H."

Ardelia agreed.

"That's probably a good idea. Logan, why don't you and Hannibal go out for the next couple of hours? Clarice and I will handle the police."

Obviously not in need encouragement, Logan consented immediately.

"Hell, I'll go hang out with my Buddy! No problem."

"Not that I mind _hanging out _per se, but if I am not in the home and they see the security cameras, unless they are seriously mentally deficient they will ask to access the footage. At that point, they will see me at the gate with the horse, will wonder why we've attempted to hide my presence and will consider me a suspect. Have you checked to see whether or not the delivery was caught on camera?"

Logan laughed, "The _delivery_! I told you it was take-out! I love it!"

Clarice gave Logan the dead eye causing her ex-partner to cringe and instantly close his mouth. Clarice then turned her attention to Hannibal.

"I checked the footage. You can see a vehicle, like an old pickup truck, early seventies if I had to guess. Two men get out but they're covered from head to toe in black. The license plate of the truck was covered as well. It just looks like they're dropping off a barrel of ice or something. H…you this close to a fucking head on a platter is really terrifying me. Please, can't you get out of here."

Smoothing his hands up and down his wife's arms, Hannibal consoled Clarice. He understood all she had seen him endure. It was only natural she would be affected by the thought that he might, once again, be considered a suspect.

Keeping his voice low and soothing, he explained, "It would be better if I remained. Though I have no love for law enforcement present company excepted, if I were to avoid them it would appear as if I had something to hide. As I was not involved, I have nothing to hide."

Agreeing, Ardelia supported, "Hannibal's right, Clarice. If he's scarce now, they'll wonder why. I know I would."

Clarice wrapped her arms around Hannibal's neck, uncharacteristically clinging to his body as she worried, "Okay, but if they try to take you in…"

Hannibal slipped his hands over her hips, pulling her close.

"If we are cooperative, there would be no reason, Clarice."

Clarice had many reasons not to believe the police. Hannibal's reputation so soundly preceded him that he would automatically be considered a suspect. Clarice worried it might mean he would be taken into custody immediately.

"Okay, but I'm not making the call. Even though I know you didn't do anything, calling the cops makes me feel like Judas or something."

Placing a gentle kiss to her forehead, Hannibal questioned, "Shall I make the call?"

Clarice immediately argued, "Hell no, H! I don't want you involved in this at all."

She turned to Ardelia. "Dee, would you mind handling it with Logan. You're both active duty so you'll get a little more cooperation than H or I will."

"Sure. We'll call it in, Clarice. No problem."

Hannibal made a suggestion he believed would be prudent.

"Logan, perhaps it would be wise to leave out how I became aware of the crime."

Ever clueless, Logan had not an idea what Hannibal was saying.

"What? What do you mean?"

Ardelia chimed in, "It's probably not the best idea to tell them he tracked the scent, Genius."

"Why? It's so cool!"

"It is also exceptionally unusual and as such the ability makes me stand out, therefore, I would prefer it not be known. Perhaps we might say I was taking an evening ride and came upon the scene."

"Sure, that works. They probably would think I was crazy anyway. I doubt they'd believe it."

Hannibal's smile was sardonic and self-deprecating.

"Better you, than me, my friend. Better you, than me."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	5. Chapter 5

**THE INVESTIGATION BEGINS**

When the dispatcher saw the address and the name of the homeowners, an emergency call was placed. It didn't take very long for the police to arrive, detectives in the lead, all pouring out of their vehicles like ants teeming from an ant hill, swarming the scene.

Ardelia and Logan stood at the front gate and explained that Clarice and Hannibal were back at the house because the baby was awake and needed to be fed. With Clarice breastfeeding and the very real possibility of danger in the area, they explained that Hannibal refused to leave his wife's side. It was in fact true, the baby was being fed and Hannibal's protective nature in regards to Clarice was well known and would seem plausible to the police as well. They would be more than welcome to interview the couple when the crime scene had been secured and the baby had been fed.

Ardelia was asked by Clarice to make that point clear, so Ardelia spoke for her friend. Logan stood a quiet sentry with his massive arms folded across the expanse of his muscular chest lending his own brand of intimidating physical presence and emotional support. With his mouth closed, Logan appeared to be quite fierce. Following Hannibal's earlier advice about keeping his mouth closed, he chose to remain fierce.

Ardelia was friendly and cooperative as she followed the man she identified by his activities as being the lead detective. Introducing herself and Logan, Ardelia quickly began to explain the situation.

"Doctor and Mrs. Lecter are obviously available for questioning at the main house. When you've finished here, you're welcome to use the call button at the security station. Doctor Lecter will open the gate by remote and you can follow the driveway to the home. It seems you have things well in hand, so we'll leave you to your work and return to the home, unless you have need of further assistance."

The older gentleman nodded politely as the remaining men and women scurried about frantically, but silently to photograph the scene and collect the evidence.

"No, not at this point though I thank you for your assistance."

He had a second thought, and continued, "Ms. Mapp? I assume, with this extensive security system, the perpetrators were at least partially caught on film?"

"Yes. Two men and a late model truck, none of which are identifiable."

"Please have that footage available and inform Doctor and Mrs. Lecter I will join them shortly to conduct interviews."

"Absolutely, the footage and the family will be at your disposal."

* * *

Breathing deeply, Hannibal sat beside Clarice watching her feed their son. The scent of their child combining with the scent of his wife as she breastfed had a heady effect, dizzying almost. He continued the expansive inhalations, enjoying the sensations as the aromas continually swirling into his nostrils settled on his palate.

_If love has a taste, this is it._

Gathering his wife in his arms, Hannibal rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"This is possibly my favorite thing to do, Clarice."

Nestling against her husband as their baby boy nursed, Clarice questioned, "What is, H?"

"Watching you feed our son. There is a surge of pride I feel that is indescribable."

Clarice leaned her head on Hannibal's chest, resting comfortably as Hannibal held his family.

"I love you too, H."

Hannibal's ears pricked. "The front door has opened. You friends have returned."

Though she didn't move, Clarice's body stiffened.

"Are they alone?"

Hannibal's nostrils flared.

"Yes."

Pressing herself against Hannibal as if bracing herself, disappointment coloring her tone, Clarice acknowledged, "We won't be for long."

Attempting to comfort, Hannibal placed his hand on his wife's thigh and smoothed his palm up and down the length, stopping just above her knee he squeezed gently.

"No. I imagine not."

Hannibal understood her fears. He had been taken from her several times since first they wed. It was only natural the fear would present itself this night. Hoping his proximity would lend security, he pulled Clarice tightly to his body, her head resting on his chest as the baby fed at her breast.

"You are afraid, Clarice?"

The beat of his heart fortified her, giving Clarice the strength to speak her concerns.

"Yeah, I'm worried they might take you, H."

Careful to remove any thought or doubt from his mind so that it might not bleed into his tone, Hannibal stressed with all confidence, "Not to worry, my Love. You can trust that they'll not remove me from the home."

Listening to the baby suckling gently and marveling at how close the rhythm was to Hannibal's heart beat Clarice questioned her husband.

"How can you be sure they won't? I mean…_it's_ _you_."

"_It's you?_ Do you make that delineation because you believe it to be an unfair judgment or because you are certain our lives will always be this way?"

"I don't know…I just know I'm worried about you. I'm worried about us."

"You are worried about _us_? Does the prospect of our future together frighten you as you hold our child? I warned you, Clarice that clearing my name legally does not clear it fully in the minds of others. If there is a crime in our vicinity, I will always be suspect. Our child will someday see officers of the law come to question me. If that thought causes you pain, we will need to discuss this further."

"I'm not worried about me or the baby. I'm worried about you. I'm worried about what they'll do when they get here. I don't want to spend another night without you by my side, H. Not to mention, I know they'll be afraid of you. That makes it dangerous."

"That is why they will not take me, Clarice. I am quite certain they don't wish to undergo the difficulties of securing me. We contacted them voluntarily and will cooperate fully. Not to mention, we are have two active duty agents as houseguests. No, they will make quite the show and will no doubt mention that I am not to travel, etcetera, but they will assuredly leave me in your custody."

"They're going to interview us."

"Yes. Separately."

"What do we tell them?"

"We tell them the truth. Thankfully, Logan and Ardelia left the home and returned to find nothing disturbed. That gives us a very small window of time when the body part had to have been placed. You and I were making love at that time. It isn't as if we don't have witnesses."

"What if they think we're lying? We don't have any proof other than our word and the word of our friends. They can't use a rape kit to gather evidence to support our story. I showered, remember?"

"Yes, Clarice, you did. But, as I was in no hurry to wash your scent from my body, I did not…" Hannibal winked at his wife, "…Remember?"

"I've never been so happy about beating you to the shower in my life!"

"Happy to have added to your joy today, Clarice. In more ways than one."

"Don't be such a wise ass, H."

"Of course not, my Love."

Logan and Ardelia entered. Logan, having held it together in front of the detectives, was now exceedingly animated as he recounted the events.

"So, that was pretty fucked up, that guy's head was surrounded by a pile of tiny skeletons. It's some Halloween type shit!"

As if the self-control exhausted him, Logan dropped himself onto a chair. Turning his head and noticing Clarice was breastfeeding, though her breast was covered, he jumped to his feet.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were feeding the baby still…I'll go wait in the other room or something."

Ardelia sat in the chair opposite Logan's seat. "Don't be an idiot, Logan. Clarice is covered."

Clarice agreed, "Don't worry, it's fine."

"Okay, I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable. You okay with this Hannibal?"

"Yes, Logan. Not to worry."

Changing the subject to the focus of her concern, Clarice probed, "So, what are we looking at? Do you think they'll want to take H in for questioning?"

Ardelia paused, considering the question.

"I don't know. There's an older detective. He seems to be the senior member and he's really thorough but I don't think he'd benefit from bringing Hannibal in. Seems like that would be a lot more trouble than it would be worth to them. It's not like you've tried to hide anything."

Relieved, Clarice confirmed, "That's what H said so, after meeting them, I was hoping you felt the same way."

Logan jumped in, "They're not going to want to drag Hannibal in and lock him up with whatever or who-the-hell-ever they've got down there. Someone might get stupid and our man might have to rip a face off or two. Nah, they don't want none of that! So, let's get our stories straight before they get up here. What do you want us to tell them?"

Clarice asserted, "Tell them the truth, Logan. It's not as if we have anything to hide."

Logan's face flushed red as he considered what he would have to recount to the detective.

"Oh, come on! You guys were…well you know what you were doing when we got home. I don't want to have to say I busted in on that like a freaking idiot."

Seeing how embarrassed Logan was getting, Ardelia giggled.

"Sorry Logan, sometimes the truth hurts."

Hannibal felt if Logan appeared nervous the facts of the evening might seem suspicious, therefore he supported, "There is nothing to be self-conscious or embarrassed about. People have sex, Logan. Clarice and I are married. It's not illegal."

"I know, but then they'll know I walked in on you and…Doc, that's embarrassing."

Hannibal found it more than a little irritating to have to continually placate.

"It is not embarrassing, Logan. It is life, plain and simple."

The baby finished feeding and was now sound asleep, so Clarice moved him from her breast and began to sort out her clothing. Seeing the balancing act, Hannibal reached for the baby to assist his wife.

"Allow me, Clarice. I'll tend our son."

Hannibal removed their baby and carried him out of the room to return him to his crib. With Hannibal gone, Clarice leaned forward and spoke quickly and quietly.

"Okay, what do you really think about all of this?"

Ardelia sat forward as well, careful to keep her voice low.

"I think this guy's pretty experienced and level headed. I doubt he'll take Hannibal tonight, but we'll have to be really confident in our replies to the questions. We don't want him thinking there's any doubt in our minds or any wiggle room in our answers."

Ardelia turned to Logan and pointed an accusatory finger in his direction.

"Don't screw this up, Logan. I know you don't want to tell them what happened but it's the only alibi we have and we can actually prove it so we can't change the story. Just don't tell them Hannibal sniffed out the body. Tell them he was taking the horse out for a ride to get some fresh air."

"Okay, okay! I'll tell them. Jesus, I'm going to look like such a freaking tool!"

Clarice, no longer embarrassed or focused on the interruption, was now totally fixated on the formation of their alibi and the timeline leading up to the crime.

"Too bad we didn't give you a credit card to use so we could show where you went to dinner and what time you left."

Suddenly Logan jumped to his feet and began digging in his pockets. He was obviously very excited.

"Hey! Hey! I did get a copy of the bill. I wanted to show you how much we spent so you wouldn't argue when we gave you back your change."

Logan handed Clarice the receipt and a fistful of rumpled money. She tossed the currency on the coffee table and immediately studied the small piece of paper outlining the payment. When she reviewed the receipt and saw a date and time stamp on the bill, she smiled.

"At least now we can show when you left the restaurant. They'll know what time you called the crime into the dispatcher, so it's pretty obvious what's gone on. Not to mention the security camera shows a vehicle pass by the camera and the two men get out with the barrel, so, I'd say Hannibal's in the clear."

Ardelia agreed wholeheartedly.

"I can't see any reason they'd assume he had anything to do with it."

* * *

Hannibal, having just put his son to bed, returned just as the buzzer went off on the main gate. He walked briskly to the security monitors and flipped the switch opening the intercom to speak to the detectives he could see parked outside the gatehouse.

"Gentlemen, allow me to thank you for your assistance and to welcome you. The main gate will open momentarily after which, you are welcome to follow the path to the home."

Hannibal activated the gate by remote, waited for the car to pull past, and closed the gate behind them. With the detectives on their way, Hannibal moved to the room where Clarice and friends were sitting quietly, discussing the circumstances.

"Excuse me, Clarice, the detectives are on their way. I'll be walking to the driveway to meet them."

"Want me to come with, H?"

"No, Clarice. I'd prefer you remain indoors. Though I'm certain you can handle yourself and am equally certain the perpetrator is no longer on the property, I don't wish to have to explain that I am certain of that fact because the scent is gone. It would be better if we appeared to be operating under the assumption that the individuals might still be in the area as it would raise less suspicion."

"Okay, H. Just be careful."

"Always, my Love."

Hannibal left the room giving Clarice the opportunity to enlist Logan's help.

Knowing her husband was still in earshot, Clarice looked over to Logan and lifted her chin in his direction to signal he follow Hannibal.

Logan, ever clueless, pressed his hand on his chest with his mouth agape.

"What? What did I do?"

Whispering, Clarice explained, "Nothing, Logan. I'd just really appreciate it if my husband didn't have to go out there and face the Argentinian police department alone."

Logan flinched.

"Dude, he said don't go out there!"

Ardelia reminded, "He said _Clarice_ shouldn't go out there. He never mentioned you, Logan."

Urging Logan by appealing to his ego, Clarice explained, "I get why he doesn't want me out there, but you won't raise any eyebrows. I mean look at you! You're huge! With your size and training, no one's gonna think you need protecting so, can you do me a favor and go look out for H for me?"

Ego stroked, Logan flexed his muscles.

"Yeah, no worries! I got this."

So, Logan Marley, chest filling with pride, placed a hand on the back of the chair he was sitting on, stood quickly and vaulted over the piece of furniture with ease trotting after Hannibal like a puppy chasing it's master.

Ardelia laughed, "Now that you got him all pumped up thinking he's Hannibal's personal bodyguard, there'll be no living with him."

"Maybe, but H has faced enough cops alone. It wouldn't hurt to have a friend stand beside him for once. Especially a friend who's in the FBI."

* * *

Hannibal heard the footsteps coming down the path behind him and caught the scent of Logan running toward him. Stopping in his tracks, Hannibal lowered his head and shook it slowly as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

_Protecting me or punishing me, my Love, which is it?_

Catching up, Logan, for once, used his brain. Remembering what Hannibal told him earlier, he chose not to speak. Instead, he smiled and nodded.

Surprised by the silence, Hannibal nodded and smiled as well. The pair turned and walked down the path to the headlights approaching in the distance, Logan with just a bit more bounce to his step than usual.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	6. Chapter 6

**HEAVEN FORBID**

The detective asked that Hannibal provide an area of the home that would insure privacy in order that he might conduct the necessary interviews without interruption or bias. Considering the layout of the house, Hannibal led the man to the music room. Though it was his private space, it was not far from the foyer, additionally, it was far removed from the family room and kitchen where Clarice and her friends had gathered. The detective could send for people one-by-one and question each individual without being concerned with being overheard.

Standing across from the detective as the man's underlings poked about the room touching literally everything their eyes fell upon, Hannibal rankled slightly as the lead detective on the case took his place behind the desk and too, began moving the personal belongings aside. The only sign of Hannibal's discomfort was the instantaneous blink of his eyes when the man picked up one of Hannibal's framed photos of Clarice and began rubbing his thumb continuously over the image as if stroking the woman herself.

His tone lecherous as he established, "Thank you, this will be fine, Doctor Lecter. Yes, very fine indeed. This will be absolutely adequate for my needs."

Seeing this behavior as wholly inappropriate and choosing to make note of the disrespect, Hannibal questioned, "Which do you consider adequate to your needs, the photograph of my treasured wife or the room, Detective?"

Closely surveying the photo of Clarice, Hannibal's _favorite _photo of Clarice, the detective lips curled into a devious smile.

"I was referring to the room of course."

_You say the room, yet still you assault the photograph. Memorizing the image of my Love with masturbatory intent, Detective? While you may molest her image, know that she will sleep in my arms tonight. Seeing no wedding ring, you, I am certain, will sleep alone with your right hand your only comfort._

His fury undetected, Hannibal fumed. Suppressing the urge to leap across his desk and tear the limbs from this repugnant man for his molestation of Clarice's image, Hannibal did not question, but instead stated as a matter of fact, "I shall assume I'll not be your first interview."

The detective did not make eye contact instead he continued to rub his thumb over the image of Clarice.

"No, Doctor. You will be the last to be interviewed."

The man took one last long look at the photograph, very slowly ran his tongue along the bottom edge of his upper teeth and placed the frame, glass side down on the desk. This disrespect was not a mere oversight, but the planned antagonism of an experienced detective at a crime scene that just happened to be located at the home of a nine-time convicted serial killer.

The detective watched Hannibal's body language and demeanor for any clues as to the good doctor's guilt or innocence, but would only find a pleasant smile and a relaxed posture. He continued to lift objects from the desk, turning the individual items over in his hand, scrutinizing them as if each object would direct him to Hannibal's potential guilt or innocence. He then misplaced each article, setting the items on the desk in haphazard fashion. The man continued studying the objects and their owner having no idea the depth of the immolation lurking just behind Hannibal's deep maroon eyes. Such was his control, so unwavering his discipline that Hannibal's outward neutrality and passive bearing belied his inner rage as his personal space was so meticulously invaded.

Hannibal stood patiently waiting to be excused. The detective, seeing no emotional tirade or outburst would be forthcoming, was forced to concede.

"We will call upon you when you are needed, Doctor."

Understanding their desire to unhinge him in order to uncover their perception of his possible participation in the crime, though he loathed leaving them in such a personal space Hannibal felt it best to exit. Though he had no doubt his self-control would exceed their abilities to provoke, discretion being the better part of valor, Hannibal excused himself.

"I will leave you to your work, gentlemen."

* * *

Hannibal entered the room silently and stood beside Clarice resting his hand on the top of the chair in which she sat as he was angry and her proximity was calming. Her scent served as aromatherapy, relaxing him as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, releasing the anxiety the officers elicited.

Logan and Ardelia were curled up comfortably on the couch. Ardelia was obviously trying to calm Logan who was currently beside himself waiting to deal with the detectives. He was so obviously freaked out one would think he had committed the crime. Ardelia continually smoothed a comforting hand on Logan's thigh, his arms around her waist, her back resting against his body comfortably. The moment he caught sight of Hannibal, Logan straightened visibly, attempting to push Ardelia away.

"What the hell, Logan!" Ardelia complained.

Embarrassed, Logan whispered, "Dude, just be cool."

Noticing the sudden changes in their physical position and the abrupt shift in Logan's body language, Hannibal held up a hand.

"Please relax, Logan. There is no need."

Still attempting to climb past an irritated and unmoving Ardelia, Logan asserted, "I don't want to disrespect you in your home, Doc."

Hannibal slipped his hand alongside Clarice's neck, just past the curtain of her hair and stroked his fingers along her neck, his thumb resting along her cheek.

"Then, it would seem you are in the minority, my friend. I assure you, your comfort does not offend me."

The former comment raised Clarice's concern, but her husband's body language and facial expression upon entering the room was decidedly neutral. Now that he stood behind the chair just over her right shoulder she couldn't see him at all. Not that it would have helped her assessment as his countenance remained indistinct.

_God, H…what's going on in your mind? You're impossible to read…_

Taking a different tack in an attempt to accumulate information, Clarice questioned, "So, did they tell you what's happening?"

Hannibal continued to stroke his fingers along her smooth skin.

"Only that they will be conducting interviews in the music room and that I will be the last person they speak with. I would imagine they begin with Logan or Ardelia."

His tone was unexceptional, so there would be no help there.

Logan slipped down low in his chair, pulling Ardelia close, almost as if he were hiding behind her.

He groaned, "Where's that knife of yours Doc? Please,just kill me now and put me out of my misery."

Continually touching Clarice as if the action would in some way erase the behavior of the detective, Hannibal insisted, "Nonsense, Logan. You'll be fine. You don't have to elaborate beyond confirming that Clarice and I were in the home when you arrived. That should be more than enough information to ascertain my innocence."

After meeting the man, Hannibal was certain the detective would pursue the point, but there was no sense in getting Logan nervous. He'd find out soon enough.

Her head tilted toward his touch, Clarice supported Hannibal's assertion to Logan.

"Just answer them honestly, Logan. You'll be fine."

Understanding that their home was crawling with law enforcement personnel and Hannibal hadn't experienced that level of personal intrusion since he was darted in the Baltimore home at Bloom's direction, Clarice had cause to be concerned. That experience came close to killing him and as strong a man as she knew her husband to be, as much in control of his body and mind, still, Clarice believed there had to be some small part of him that must be affected by the experience. The fact that he was being so physically demonstrative in the presence of Logan and Ardelia signaled his discomfort.

"H?"

Sensing her concern and wanting to offer peace of mind, Hannibal placed that same hand on her shoulder and gripped slightly.

"Yes, Clarice?"

She reached up and grasped the hand, squeezing gently.

"You okay?"

Hannibal's voice lowered to almost a whisper as he stressed, "They are touching my personal belongings, Clarice."

Knowing after so many years of incarceration under the yoke of Chilton, when Hannibal's personal items were often disrespected and removed at the lesser man's whim, her husband's personal belongings were considered sacrosanct. Realizing how offensive that action would be to him, Clarice rested her cheek against his arm, pressing a kiss to his hand.

"Sorry, H. Just tell me you didn't show them it bothered you because you know they're going to do anything to try and shake you up."

"Yes, I understand, but the moment the detective set your photo face-down on the surface of the desk, though I don't believe my ire was visible, I must admit to being quite displeased."

Clarice released Hannibal's hand and shifted in her chair, turning her body at the waist in order to see her husband's face.

"Not that I think you'd use it, but out of curiosity where _is_ your harpy?"

Hannibal didn't answer, nor did his expression change. He simply disconnected from the comment, clasped his hands behind his back and moved to the window. Looking out across the wide expanses of his property he began to consider the strategic metrical variations in the first quatrain of John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV, as the topic of the sonnet appealed to him of late.

Seeing the detachment, Clarice, Ardelia and Logan exchanged concerned glances. For his part, Hannibal was unconcerned.

"H?"

Believing silence his most effective communicative option, Hannibal continued to contemplate the sonnet.

The silence in the room was now deafening.

In an attempt to casually interrupt the quiet, Ardelia poked Logan and spoke as if nothing was happening, "I'm hungry. Logan. You?"

To his credit Logan took her meaning, was as eager to get out of the room as Ardelia and leapt at the chance to exit.

"Dee, you know I'm always hungry."

Happy that Logan was perceptive enough to take the hint, Ardelia excused them from the room.

"Hannibal, Clarice, if you'll excuse us we're going to the kitchen to get something to eat. You guys okay here?"

Though he didn't turn to face her, Hannibal waved a gracious hand in Ardelia's direction acknowledging her question and signaling he had no needs.

Clarice smiled her thanks to Ardelia for affording them privacy.

"We're good, thanks Dee."

Logan scrambled to his feet. He couldn't get up and out of the room quick enough. Ardelia followed, but at a much less obvious speed.

Clarice waited until they were alone in the room.

"H? The harpy?"

Staring forward, Hannibal questioned his wife.

"Do you believe there is a danger that I will use it, Clarice? Had I not been sufficiently emasculated this day that you sought to further the process by requesting the weapon in front of our guests?"

"What? They're not _guests, _they're _family_, and I wasn't requesting you hand it over, H. I just don't want anyone having a reason to drag you out of here in handcuffs. I've seen all of that I can take. Our house is full of a bunch of swinging dick macho cops and with that type, there's always the outside chance they will search you. I don't want to hold the weapon, I'd just prefer if you'd put it somewhere safe."

Unmoving and equally unmoved, Hannibal responded dispassionately, "It is quite safe, I assure you."

When her husband didn't elaborate, Clarice understood this was a topic he didn't want pursued further, so she backed off from her questioning. Not that she was afraid, quite the opposite in fact. It was her way of acknowledging that he was being invaded and she recognized he was handling it as best he could. She was respecting his privacy. Clarice was certain he had taken care of the situation and that the harpy was hidden. Best to change the subject.

The officers and detectives huddled in his music room had no doubt perused every item at their disposal and to Hannibal, due to the fact that this incursion was happening in his own home, the process seemed to him to be much more intrusive than any strip search he'd been forced to endure. That level of scrutiny had not been pleasant, but in that context, it had been expected. This particular infringement was most definitely out of context, as as such Hannibal judged it to be unnecessary and wholly unwelcome.

Seeking to lend support, Clarice moved to the window and stood behind her husband.

Assuming her presence would be enough, she didn't say a word but instead placed kisses on his back, between his shoulders. She then turned her head to the side and rested her cheek on his right shoulder. She remained that way for several minutes, listening to his breathing, feeling his body slowly relax. Finally, Hannibal spoke. Just her name, but she understood the volumes of emotion contained within, the moment he spoke.

"_Clarice…"_

"I know H…I know."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and continued.

"Want to talk about it?"

Releasing a deep sigh, now having a confidant for the first time in his adult life, Hannibal spoke his frustration to his wife.

"Our son sleeps in his crib and I have police officers scouring my property. It is unseemly. I cannot avoid this level of scrutiny and though I have done everything I can to keep this from his life, I have failed. I have no reason to believe I will be any more successful in the future and that thought, that he might be forced to deal with this as well, distresses me."

Wanting to cry for her husband's plight, Clarice forced aside her own maudlin thoughts and assured, "We'll get through it, H. We always do."

"That is the problem, Clarice. Yes, we will get through it. Yes, we always do. Still, it is tiring."

This was the first time since Hannibal's sentence commutation, the process of dealing with law enforcement seemed to be taking a toll. Clarice could feel the tension in his body, hear the frustration and anger in his voice. He had done so much to avoid any interaction with the police. Still, here they were, and he had done nothing to deserve it. She wished she could say it would be the last time. That their son would never see this, would never know this side of him, but it was an impossible affirmation.

Instead, she commiserated, "Yeah, the process must be getting old for you."

"Yes, in the extreme, my Love."

Seeing an opportunity to lighten the mood, Clarice slipped her right hand over her husband's hip.

Hannibal's eyebrow arched.

Without speaking Clarice reached further, slipping her hand over his groin.

"Clarice?"

Searching his body intimately she teased, "Just making sure the emasculation was metaphorical, H."

"My Love, you may feel free to search me thoroughly when the police have finished with me."

"I'll search you now, H…sloppy seconds aren't my style."

"As you wish, Clarice. There is nothing I would ever deny you."

Hannibal raised his arm and turned into his wife's embrace. Holding her tightly to him, his hand passed over her hips, gently resting on the curve of her bottom. Allowing himself to be comforted, talking about his feelings was something Clarice encouraged from her husband. He was sharing so much more, their relationship deepening each day.

Lowering his head, he sought a kiss. Their lips touching, he delicately traced the tip of his tongue along the fullness of lips, slipping it tenderly within the separation, lovingly stroking hers with his own. The deep sigh of contentment from her husband was the only affirmation needed to illustrate that her presence in his life was not only welcomed, but had become necessary to his physical and psychological well-being. The kiss deepened, Hannibal gathering Clarice against his body, lifting her slightly from the ground as he sought to express his love and desire with something as simple and pure as a kiss.

Suddenly, Hannibal set Clarice down. His hands moved up from her bottom to settle on her waist. He broke the kiss, his expression crestfallen, though he put no words to his obvious disappointment.

They were soon interrupted by the presence of a police officer.

"Excuse me, Doctor Lecter, Mrs. Lecter, is Special Agent Logan available?"

Releasing Clarice and fully unconcerned with the rudeness of the gesture, Hannibal uncharacteristically ignored the officer and again turned toward the window.

Disappointed to have him closed off so quickly, Clarice faced the officer, barely containing the anger in her tone.

"If you took the time to look for the man you really wanted before making a beeline straight for my husband you might have noticed that the rooms are adjoined and you just walked right past him, though I'm sure this room was of far more interest to you than who you were supposedly seeking."

Embarrassed at the insinuation because of the level of truth in it, the officer lowered his head.

"My apologies for interrupting your privacy."

The officer turned toward the kitchen area to collect Logan.

Clarice returned to Hannibal. He immediately gathered her in his arms.

"It's quite a good thing you didn't show the officer you were bothered, Clarice, because you know they're going to do anything to try and shake you up."

"Don't be such a wise ass, H."

"Heaven forbid, my Love…heaven forbid."

**Until the next chapter, my friends,**

**LH**


	7. Chapter 7

**HANNIBAL'S PROMISE**

Logan sat across from the detective. Though he was nearly a foot taller and probably seventy-five or eighty pounds heavier than the lead detective, Logan was intimidated. He sat, staring around the room until his eyes shifted to the couch where he saw Hannibal and Clarice making love no more than a few hours earlier.

_Oh, god…why did the interview have to be in **this** room…_

Logan quickly turned his attention to his feet and began to consider whether or not he should replace his sandals. For the first time in his recent memory, Logan wanted to think about anyone or anything _but_ Hannibal Lecter.

The detective could see the unease in Logan and leaned forward, closing the distance, thus raising the level of the larger man's discomfort. Having previously adjusted the lift of Hannibal's desk chair the seat loomed over the desk and too, most people sitting on the other side, but with Logan's size the added height only served to even the gap though his proximity served an identical purpose.

Hoping Logan would be amenable to revealing more if he was comfortable the detective smiled widely as he questioned in an amiable manner, "Agent Logan Marley, is it? I've been told you're one of the FBI's most gifted snipers."

Lifting his eyes from his feet, Logan beamed.

"Dude, I'm _the_ most gifted sniper in the FBI. Seriously, I once shot Hannibal in the chest, but he was wearing some pretty intense body armor, so he got away that night, but I my shot was dead on accurate."

Flapping his hands in friendly concession, the detective forced a laugh.

"Of course, of course, dear boy, I stand corrected. So, why would the most talented sniper in the FBI decide upon taking a body shot and not a headshot, thus allowing the target to escape? Did you have specific instructions or was the placement of the round your choice."

What Logan wanted to say, bounced around in his brain, tempting his lips to allow easement. He clenched his mouth, securing his silence.

_Dude, I couldn't shoot him in the head…I was totally helping him fake his death._

Reason intervened causing Logan to explain himself not as Hannibal's friend, but in a manner much more befitting his station as an active FBI agent.

"No, I figured they might want to get a look at that brain of his. He's so much smarter than anyone else that it must be really special, unusual, you know? It'd be a sin destroying that brain. A real crime against nature, you know? If Hannibal's got a perfect brain, and I really think he does, obliterating it would be kind of like spitting in God's face."

It wasn't the answer the detective was expecting, but he could fault the logic, it was plausible. The detective nodded, believing Logan might well have made that choice believing he was aiding scientific research. There had been no end of medical and scientific minds theorizing over the differences between Hannibal's brain and that of normal individuals. Not that Hannibal was _abnormal_, but he was certainly a singular human being and as such, the cause of extensive curiosity. Yes. Destroying that brain might very well be a crime.

"Yes…yes...that was a prudent choice."

"Prudent…damn straight!"

"I've also been told you are dating Ardelia Mapp. She is quite beautiful and a very capable agent as well. You make a lovely couple."

Sitting back comfortably, Logan's right arm dropped over the back of the chair, his chest swelling with pride as he announced, "We're actually engaged, or, well, we aren't yet, but I'm going to ask her soon. I wanted to get Hannibal's help picking out the ring and come up with a really romantic way to ask her. He's totally the man when it comes to that sort of thing."

Maintaining eye contact, but attempting to appear genuinely interested, the detective sat back in his chair as well, and continued, "Hannibal is the man when it comes to what sort of thing?"

Striking on a topic he was more than comfortable with, Logan leaned forward crossing his arms over his knees.

"He's really good with women. I mean, insanely good. Well, maybe _insane_ isn't the right word for it, but he got Clarice to fall in love with him even though he was a convicted killer and she was an FBI agent. Even you've gotta admit that's some major pimp-like skills. When it comes to handling women, he's my freaking hero."

The word _hero_ struck the detective.

"Yes. I will admit their courtship and marriage was unexpected. Hannibal's your hero? You look up to him?"

"Yeah, I do. He's a really good man, he's an awesome dad and you should see how much he loves Clarice. They're the perfect couple."

Seeing that Logan would now talk freely, the detective began to take notes.

"Do you know about their relationship? Hannibal's and Clarice's."

"Some. I'm totally his best friend, well…aside from Barney, that is. But when Barney's not here, I'm the dude!"

"Is that the reason you're visiting?"

"Dee is best friends with Clarice so, when Hannibal wanted to leave Baltimore and Clarice was sad, he invited us to hang out for a while."

"So much expense just because he thought his wife might be sad? You don't think there might be an additional reason he wanted you here?"

"What additional reason would there be? She was sad and he wanted to make her happy. If you knew how Hannibal is with Clarice you wouldn't even _question_ it. He lives to make her happy."

"So, you were out to dinner this evening? All four of you?"

"No, just me and Ardelia."

"The Lecter's didn't join you?"

Logan cringed. He knew the fact that they stayed behind would look bad.

"No, Clarice and Hannibal needed some privacy so Clarice told us to go out and have dinner on them."

"Do you believe there might be a reason they wanted you out of the house at that particular time?"

Logan's body language stiffened slightly. The friendly banter was beginning to wane as the detective began circling to his main point of interest.

"Clarice thought Hannibal might be a little agitated."

Lifting an eyebrow, the detective looked up from his notepad.

"Hannibal was agitated earlier today?"

The temperature in the room, though constant, seemed to Logan to have jumped thirty degrees.

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Logan's heart pounded as he hedged, "Maybe. I didn't see him. He was playing a sad sounding piece on the piano and Clarice thought he might be a little bit upset about something, so she gave us her wallet and her car keys and we went out to dinner, that's all."

Tapping his pen repeatedly against his teeth, the detective clarified, "It was Clarice's idea? Not Hannibal's?"

Though normally sweet natured, Logan's patience was running thin, his cheerful smile turned downward as his voice edged with aggression.

"I _said _it was Clarice's idea, _didn't I_? Hannibal didn't even know anything about it so don't start trying to set up something. I know he wasn't trying to get us out of the house because he didn't even know we'd gotten _back_ yet. Can't a wife spend two hours alone with her husband without needing an alibi? _Fuck!_"

The detective leaned so far back on the seat that the spring on the antique desk chair creaked in complaint. He now drummed his pen against his knee. If Logan's attitude upset him, he didn't show it.

The older man chewed at the tip of his pen as he replied aloofly, "I would think, being married to Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling would expect occasional scrutiny."

Logan shot to his feet so quickly he knocked the chair backward, flipping it over, sending it crashing to the floor. Towering over the detective, Logan pointed aggressively, defending his friend vociferously.

"Clarice is _Mrs. Hannibal Lecter_ now, and if she heard you say that about her husband she'd probably kick your ass, so let's show them some respect in their own home and get it right, okay?"

The detective waved at one of his colleagues and pointed behind Logan to the upended chair. The man approached and righted the seating.

With a gracious motion of his hand, the detective bade Logan sit.

"Of course. No offense was intended to Doctor or Mrs. Lecter, I assure you. From the surveillance tapes, you enter the main gate and there is no activity, nor is there a body. Within ten minutes, a truck pulls up, two individuals get out of a truck and unload the container and drive away. Where was Hannibal when you returned from your evening out?"

Still angry, Logan dropped his body with a petulant thump onto the chair. He gripped the arms trying to squeeze the anger from his body as he answered, not to help the detective, but to keep Hannibal free from this man's grip.

"Here with Clarice, in this room."

"Do you think he might have been on the property sitting in a truck waiting for you to pull in? He could easily have unloaded the truck and entered the home before you opened the door."

Logan hoped he might sway the detective with his confidence of his assertions without having to be specific.

"No. He couldn't have."

The detective paused for an uncomfortable amount of time, carefully attending the beads of perspiration pearling on Logan's panicked brow.

"You seem so very certain. Is it not possible?"

Again, Logan stressed, "No, I'm telling you it's _not possible_."

"Not possible? I believe it is not only entirely possible, I believe it is absolutely probable. Shall I tell you how?"

Logan was positively nonplussed.

_Son of a bitch, I'm gonna have to tell him. There's no way around it, this guy's like a freaking pit bull with a hunk of meat. He's not gonna let go until he drags Doc out of here in handcuffs. But to break the Bro Code…you don't put a friend's business out in the street like this. Not cool! Not cool!_

Realizing his quiet was affecting Logan, the detective ignored the Special Agent's anxiety and jotted notes on his pad. Minutes passed before he offered his own thoughts on the situation.

"Doctor Lecter could easily have arranged for an individual to assist him in placing the barrel. The accomplice could have driven the vehicle to another location after which point Hannibal would have proceeded to the house."

"No! That's not what happened. Hannibal and Clarice were alone in this room together. Hannibal wasn't outside. He was here with Clarice."

"How do you know that? Did you go immediately to this room upon entrance into the home?"

_Oh God, I thought the video would clear Hannibal and this bastard thinks Hannibal's in the video. Not good. This is not good!_

"No. I entered a few minutes after I arrived. I waited for Ardelia to rearm the security system, but I could hear noises so they were in the room."

"If you didn't immediately enter the room, the amount of time that passed would have provided Doctor Lecter ample time to make his way down the driveway and access this room from the back entrance to the home. You might have entered seconds later, yes?"

Logan pounded his fists on the arms of the chair so hard the floorboards vibrated.

Normally a teddy bear of a man, Logan was every bit the grizzly his size suggested as he growled, "No. It's impossible! He was in _this_ room _with_ Clarice for several minutes. Definitely for the entire time we pulled into the main gate right up to the time I burst into the room. I'm sure of it."

"No doubt at all? How can you be that certain?"

"Because…I know, that's how. He was in here for several minutes. I heard them."

"Them? You heard them? Hannibal wasn't alone in the room?"

"No, Clarice was with him."

"She might be covering up for him. She might have entered the room with him."

"Dude, _they were in the room the whole time_. I'm _sure_ of it. I could see with my own eyes they had been in the room the whole time."

Again, using the personal space between them to affect Logan, the investigator stood and leaned over the desk.

"Why do I have the feeling there is additional information that you are refusing to share?"

"Because I don't think it's cool. It's none of your business, that's why."

Turning his back to Logan, the detective clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing behind Hannibal's desk.

"What's none of my business?"

"It's none of your business why I know they were here the whole time. It's personal."

"Nothing is more personal than an arrest on suspicion of murder. If you have information, I suggest you share it with me or I will proceed under the assumption that one of the men in the video might possibly be Hannibal Lecter and I will be forced to place him under arrest."

He paused and began toying with the objects on the desk. Logan didn't like the man's hands on Hannibal's belongings. Feeling as if Hannibal was being intruded upon in every way possible, the fact that this man kept insinuating himself set Logan off the edge of self-control.

"_Dude, _that is _so_ not cool! And on top of that, stop touching Hannibal's things. You were invited here and you're acting like you've got a warrant and permission to fuck not only with Hannibal but with all his shit as well. Who the hell raised you anyway?"

Seeing Clarice's picture turned down, incensed, Logan stood and fixed the frame.

"Now stop screwing with his things and stop pretending like you're gonna arrest him when you know he hasn't done anything wrong. I'm an active duty Special Agent with the F. B. Fucking I, and I'm telling you he hasn't done anything but report a crime."

"You are a Special Agent well beyond your jurisdiction and whether you agree with his arrest or not, that is the course of action I will be forced to take unless you have information to the contrary."

Logan looked over at the couch again and absolutely heartbroken for what he considered was a betrayal of the highest order, proceeded.

"I know they were here the whole time because when I opened the door to come in, I interrupted them."

The man took his seat again, now interested.

"You interrupted them how? What were they doing when you opened the door?"

"They were having sex, okay. You wanted to make me say it so there it is. I burst into the room like a freaking moron to find Hannibal and Clarice and they'd just finished. Well, Clarice just finished. I'm not sure about Hannibal."

The detective wasn't convinced.

"Perhaps they hadn't had sex at all. Perhaps they were trying to make it appear as such to shift suspicion in a different direction. That would be an embarrassing situation. One you wouldn't want to discuss or question further."

_Yeah, no shit, Sherlock! What tipped you off?_

"No. Trust me, there was no faking involved, they were having sex."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I could hear Clarice. She was…well…I thought she was hurt. That's why I went to the room. I knew she thought he was upset and I was worried about them."

"Did you believe he was hurting his wife?"

"No. He wouldn't hurt her under any circumstances. He'd rather die than hurt her."

"But you thought she was hurt so you ran down the hall, you opened the door and you saw?"

"I saw Hannibal climbing off Clarice."

"And because he was nude and climbing off his wife, you assumed they were having sex?"

"I didn't assume anything. They were having sex."

"You're sure?"

"Dude, seriously _what don't you get about this_? I heard what I _thought_ was Clarice screaming so I busted in where I didn't belong because I thought she was hurt but it wasn't that at all. She was having an orgas… fuck it! I'm not spelling _that_ out so you can just do the math on why she'd be screaming. So, I ran down the hall, opened the door and Hannibal climbed off Clarice, still…still ready and everything so if he wasn't having sex why was his wife screaming and why was he still ready when I opened the door?"

The lead detective was momentarily confused.

"_Ready?_ For what?"

Exasperated, Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh, _come on_, Dude. What do I have to do draw you a _picture_ of this? He was _ready,_ get it?"

"No, I don't get it. Please be specific."

_Yeah, no shit you don't get it- because it's been years since you've gotten any!_

"Okay, you want it spelled out? When I said he was ready I was trying to avoid saying that he was still hard for her."

"You're sure?"

"Dude, I don't know what you're packing and I don't care, but trust me when I say, with Hannibal, it's enormously obvious and don't ask me to describe it because I'm not going to do it. You can just arrest me and toss me in jail instead because this is embarrassing enough. Hannibal's a private dude and I'm only telling you this because I know it proves he didn't do it. It kills me to say it because it's so personal and he's…he's my friend."

"What did he do? When you walked in on your friend having sex with his wife."

Logan's large shoulders shook with anger as the man made light of the situation.

"He kind of ushered me out of the room, then for all I know he closed the deal."

"Closed the deal?"

"Yeah, closed the deal. Finished what he started, get it?"

"Yes, certainly. Well…I suppose, based on your statement that the only person I need speak to about this is Doctor Lecter. When you return, will you ask him to join me here?"

"I can leave?" Logan barely contained the relief.

The detective nodded.

"You can leave this _room_. As for your future plans, you'll be staying how long?"

Logan stood, easing toward the door as he spoke.

"Just a couple of weeks. Ardelia and I took a month's vacation."

The detective wagged his pen, halting Logan's movement.

"And if you're needed longer?"

Standing with a hand on the piano as if in the touching of the object Hannibal was lending physical and emotional support, Logan stressed, "I'll take a leave of absence and so will Dee. If Hannibal needs us, we're here."

"No questions? No discussions needed?"

Logan squared his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest.

"No questions. No discussions. He needs, we stay."

"Very well. You may retrieve Hannibal."

_Yeah, fuck you too, Buddy._

Logan left the room to get his friend.

* * *

"Excuse me, Doc, the detective wants to talk to you."

Snuggled with Clarice on the sofa, Hannibal lifted his head from his wife's shoulder.

"He said I would be the last person interviewed."

"Yeah, you're last. Sorry, but I had to tell him everything that happened. _Everything, _ so, I guess he doesn't need to talk to the women. It's all on you, Doc. I did my best, but that guy's a royal ass."

"Very well."

Hannibal kissed his wife and stood.

"I'll return shortly, Clarice."

Reaching to brush her fingertips along his arm, she questioned, "You promise, H?"

Taking her hand, Hannibal placed a tender kiss, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

"Yes, Clarice. You may trust me when I say that no one will remove me from this home. I promise."

It was a promise Hannibal intended to keep. No matter what the cost.

**Until the next chapter, my friends,**

**LH**


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: forgive me for postponing the posting of this chapter. Yesterday was a boycott day to protest the changes for posting M rated fics. There is also a petition circulating. I will post the information on my profile page for those interested in keeping the M fics untouched. **

**SEMANTICS**

When Hannibal entered the room the assembled investigators hushed. It happened often when this particular man approached. A tacit respect, perhaps. More likely Hannibal believed, they were simply afraid. He crossed the room, dragging a finger along the breast plate as he passed the samurai armor, moved past the easel where his portrait of Clarice and his son was beginning to take shape, standing alongside his piano, his possessions…his life.

The detective was standing to the rear of Hannibal's chair as if hiding behind a shield.

_How is it that seven men and one woman are necessary to conduct a simple series of interviews? Perhaps you find it pleasurable to be seen in this position of power? Like the lion tamer, you must hide behind a chair to face the Beast? Shall I show you my claws?_

Approaching his own desk, Hannibal stood in front of the detective and inhaled deeply. His eyes closed as his nostrils flared to gather the aromas filling the space.

_There is fear in the room._

The detective moved slowly around the chair and took his seat in the place normally occupied by Hannibal or Clarice.

As the investigators watched, perched like vultures surveying a carcass, Hannibal lowered his head and assessed the assemblage, noticing the woman present. She was young, not much older than Clarice was when Hannibal and she first met. Having a rounded figure, a bit chubby even, she was attractive in a cherubic sort of way and was the only person from which Hannibal didn't sense fear. Curiosity and a certain level of attraction perhaps, but not fear. He might have been impressed, her movements were bold, brash, but she was boisterous among her colleagues obviously without the well-considered control of his Clarice.

Considering her in his periphery, he noticed the woman was holding several large evidence bags, some contained items taken from the area around the body part the note in particular, but most remained empty. He noted additionally that whenever she turned, her male counterparts spent an inordinate amount of time assessing her backside.

_So obvious in their sexual scrutiny…how pedestrian._

Again, his thoughts shifted to the woman.

_If you are carrying the bags, the detective expects to remove additional evidence from either the home, or my person. Who will approach? Which of you has the daring?_

The officers in attendance milled around the room whispering about Hannibal and his possible connection to the crimes. Filtering the extraneous auditory stimuli, he listened as they weighed the timeline, disclosing the time coding on the surveillance tapes revealed seven minutes elapsed from the time Logan and Ardelia drove through the main gate to the time the truck pulled into frame. It took mere seconds for the two men to hop out of the vehicle and quickly drop off the barrel containing the disembodied head. Calculating the distance, Hannibal determined that on foot it would take the average man a full five minutes to travel to the home from the main gate. At a run, Hannibal could cover the same span in far less time.

_How limited must their intellects be if they truly believe I would bring such a thing to my own home?_

Categorically unaware that he could clearly hear their conversations the remaining men, stared over their shoulders at Hannibal and continued to whisper amongst themselves. Had they understood the keenness of his hearing, they might not have chosen to discuss Hannibal's earlier tryst with Clarice. The group quietly concurred that Clarice was out of Hannibal's league until the female investigator mentioned that she found Hannibal attractive. The next conversation consisted of the men teasing her about the possibility of Hannibal Lecter being strip-searched in her presence and taunted that he might be willing to fill more than her evidence collection bags.

Hannibal shuddered at the thought.

_Perhaps I shall volunteer the evidence in order that I might expedite your departure._

Though Hannibal wanted to snatch them up by the nape of their necks for disrespecting this woman in his home, he didn't want to interrupt the free flow of information by pointing out the acuity of his hearing.

Two men huddled in the corner quietly calculating the information from the video. Unaware of Hannibal's level of fitness and exceptional speed, due to his age they determined he wouldn't be unable to complete the distance in the time allotted u_nless_ he ran. This overestimation aided his defense and though the pair did not reveal the details, Hannibal now had all the information he needed. With the time code confirmed, as long as they understood he was with Clarice when Logan and Ardelia returned there was virtually no way he could be implicated in this crime.

_Something is odd about the placement of the chair. It seems, altered._

His eyes shifting to the base, Hannibal could see the lever had been engaged revealing to him the seat of the chair had, indeed, been adjusted.

_Do you think I would be intimidated by something as foolish as your position in the room or the height of the chair? Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic._

Hannibal stood very still, his regal bearing and impeccable posture a reflection of his noble upbringing. With his senses constantly processing, he gathered as much information from his ears, and nose as he did from his eyes. This information told him the detective, the presumed authority in the room, wished to assert not only his legal authority, but his dominance as well. Hannibal took offense to the man's exaggerated self-worth and presumed conceit.

_Not here. Not in my home. Here, I bow to no man. Here, I protect. Here, I love. Here, my family is All._

The detective gestured for Hannibal to sit. "Sit, please, be comfortable, make yourself at home."

Unwilling to bend his knees before this man even to sit, Hannibal stood his territorial ground.

"Being that this _is_ my home, I am perfectly comfortable. As to sitting, I'd prefer not, thank you."

Eyebrows knitted, the detective was confused not only by Hannibal's unwillingness to take the seat, but his impassive expression as well. Normally he could read people and had learned to manipulate his own personality, posing as either friend or foe as the circumstances warranted and gradually bend them to his will. Hannibal Lecter however was proving to be a bit of an enigma. He was virtually unreadable. The detective stroked his pencil thin moustache with his thumb and index finger, teasing the errant hairs at the edges of his lips as he tried to determine the best response.

"Yes, well, that is your choice. Logan explained the circumstances of the evening and I'm not entirely certain I understand the conditions, as such I'd appreciate your assistance."

The detective's hand absentmindedly fell once more upon the frame with Clarice's photo causing Hannibal's eyes to flash like flint against steel in an instantaneous spark of homicide.

The detective thought he perceived the threat but with a blink it was gone. He raised an eyebrow, his heart racing having seen what he determined to be the shimmering indication of Hannibal's rage. Not wishing to tempt fate, he lifted his hand from the photo and placed it in his lap.

Satisfied that the photo would remain untouched, Hannibal proceeded politely.

"Absolutely. Whatever I can do to be of assistance, please feel free to ask. Before we proceed, please allow me to apologize for my rudeness. I have yet to introduce myself. Hannibal Lecter, at your service."

"There's no need for formality Doctor Lecter, I don't think there is a person alive who doesn't know your name. We needn't stand on ceremony."

Considering the exceptionally informal tenor of the investigation, the good doctor nodded.

"No, I suppose not."

Hannibal smoothed his palm over the top of his head, rubbed the muscles of his neck briefly skimmed his hand over his collarbone, settling his hand on his chest.

_You are all pomp and pride, offering little threat, though you are tiresome in the extreme._

"It may be that my name is well known, my past deeds as well, though I had no part in the events of this evening."

"Why did you leave your home tonight?"

His right hand still resting on his chest centered just over his heart, Hannibal spoke softly.

"I did not_ leave_ my home, I merely stepped outside for a time."

Reaching into his pocket, the detective pulled out his pad and pen, though he made no move to write. He drummed the pen on the pad, keeping his eyes on the desk looking up only occasionally as if he thought in looking away and quickly back again, something might be revealed.

"Very well, you didn't leave. Why then, did you step outside?"

Smiling wryly at the very slight verbal concession, Hannibal clarified, "I wished to speak to Special Agent Marley outside of the home."

Believing he might be able to trap Hannibal, the detective pursued, "Then, you were upset with him?"

Stroking his thumb casually over the dip above his sternum evaluating his sternoclavicular joint, Hannibal responded impassively, "Not even remotely. Why would I be upset?"

The detective leaned uncomfortably forward. The height of the seat neither suited his size nor did it provide sufficient clearance to the underside of the desk the surface of which now pressed painfully against his thighs.

His tone strained from the throbbing, he commented, "I'd think you'd be extraordinarily upset. After all, Logan had just walked in and found you and your wife in a very compromising position."

Sensing the man's pain, Hannibal allowed himself the pleasure of drinking in the discomfort, the taste of it so real his mouth watered at the thought.

_You would choose to endure the aching rather than lower the seat? Not one to readily admit failure? That is indeed dangerous for me, as you might prefer to arrest me rather than admit you are in error considering me suspect. _

Cautious, but thoroughly entertained by the wordplay, Hannibal responded, "The definition of the word _compromising_ denotes the potential for disgrace. There is nothing disgraceful about a husband making love with his wife, therefore the wording is erroneous."

Not pleased to receive Hannibal's correction the man questioned, "If you don't agree with the term _compromising position_, what would you call it?"

Flashing a wicked grin, Hannibal responded frankly, "I would call it the _missionary position_, detective."

The investigators began to laugh out loud at the irreverence, causing the detective to bristle with irritation with Hannibal's bluntness obviously designed to prove he wasn't remotely embarrassed by the situation.

The female walked behind Hannibal, brushing a hand across his shoulder, "That was priceless, Doctor. Really, hilarious."

The detective's colleagues joined in.

"Good one, Doc."

"Yeah, he got you, boss. Missionary position! Priceless."

Agitated by the exchange and the discomfort of his legs still trapped beneath the desk, the detective's tone became even more insolent. Hannibal, on the other hand, remained completely relaxed.

"So, you were caught having sex with your wife, and you respond by removing the offender from the home and do what? Go for a ride on your wife's horse?"

Removing his hand from his chest, Hannibal laced his fingers and rested his forearms comfortably on the back of the chair, allowing the joined hands to relax at the wrist.

"Again, detective, if you will forgive my admonition, your phrasing here is utilization of the word _caught_, the past participle of the word catch, implies that my wife and I were surprised while doing something either wrong, or embarrassing. A more accurate description of the event would be that I was making love with Clarice and Special Agent Marley inadvertently interrupted. As to your use of the word _offender_, again semantics begs that I correct you, as the word offender in relation to Special Agent Marley is wholly inaccurate. He neither broke the law, nor did he instigate any resentment or injury and as such, caused no offense."

Rolling his eyes, the exasperated investigator paused and when he believed he had formulated a sentence impervious to reproach continued, "Yet you felt the need to remove him from the home to get him away from your wife."

Gracefully moving from the chair, Hannibal walked to his piano, pacing in front of the keyboard the way a prosecutor might to assay a jury. He trailed his fingers lightly over the keys as he spoke.

"That statement is imprecise; I felt no such need, nor did I remove him as he is currently _in_ my home and in the company of my wife. He is a valued and trusted member of our extended family."

Unable to structure a comment or question that passed Hannibal's intense scrutiny, the detective began challenge, "Well then, if he is so valued and trusted, what was the reason for bringing him outside the home?"

One of the investigators noticeably bored by the conversation, lifted the mask from the samurai armor and covered his face with it, turning toward his colleagues and mocking. Hannibal quickly closed the distance and held out his hand, strongly suggesting by his countenance that the item be returned. The young man shrugged an apology and handed the piece over.

Carefully reattaching the mask to the headpiece, Hannibal answered, "I am considering putting in a pool. As Special Agent Marley is from California and thoroughly enjoys water sports, I sought his advice in said placement."

The detective, fed up with the discomfort of his now numb lower extremities and conceding the fact that Hannibal was not about to take the seat across from the desk, released the lever and dropped the chair to an appropriate level.

Though he chose to draw no attention to the maneuver, Hannibal lowered his head, allowing a knowing smile to tug at the corners of his mouth.

Somewhat deflated, the detective pursued, "And did Logan offer you the advice you sought?"

Still smiling, Hannibal shook his head, turning toward the easel. He lifted a piece of charcoal and began adding to the outline of his son's profile, refining the curve of his son's nose, so similar to his own.

"Special Agent Marley is easily distracted and became quite preoccupied watching me tend the horse. When I realized the animal had not been exercised today, I told him I'd like to take the animal for a quick ride. Ever helpful, he volunteered to return to the home to inform Clarice."

There was no flaw in the logic or any break in Hannibal's demeanor that might signal evasiveness or prevarication, forcing the detective to regroup with a note of sarcasm coloring his tone.

"_How kind of him_. Is _that _is when you discovered the body?"

_This is far too easy, detective. You really must attempt to be specific._

"No, that is when I discovered the decapitated head. The body was not present."

"Yes. The head. You came upon it how?"

"I took my wife's horse down the path to the main gate and spotted it as I checked the security of the gate."

"Why did you take the horse to the gate? Why not exercise the animal by riding the horse around the corral?"

_Where's the fun in that?_

"Because I wished to be certain the gate was secure. Special Agent Marley is a wonderful friend, but as I said, he can be easily distracted. My wife and son are all I have that is of any importance to me in this world. There are those who might wish to do them harm in order to harm me, and as such, it is absolutely imperative that I maintain the security of this compound."

"Why the horse and not one of the cars? I see you have several."

"It is a lovely evening and I have spent far too much of my life confined. I wished to breathe fresh air and experience the expanses of my property. Not to mention, as I said before, the animal needed exercise."

"So, Logan comes bursting in the room and you are where, specifically, in this room?"

"Again, you refer to Special Agent Marley as Logan. I hadn't realized the two of you had become so familiar that his Christian name would be the appellation preferred. If you are concerned with our _physical_ position in the room, my wife and I were making love on the sofa behind you."

"You were having sex for how long?"

"Was I not clear? I do not _have sex_ with Clarice, we make love and to answer your question, long enough to more than assure Clarice's satisfaction. I would estimate the elapsed time from beginning to the moment we were interrupted to be approximately thirty-five minutes."

"It takes you _thirty-five_ _minutes_ to please your wife?"

"I will not discuss the intimacies of my wife's pleasure with any man for any reason, but if you are surprised by that length of time, please allow me to extend my condolences to your partner, as he or she must be sorely underappreciated."

Again, the detective's comrades began to laugh, raising the embarrassment and ire of the detective.

"And while we are on the subject of time, you have reviewed the surveillance tapes and compared the running time code?"

"Yes."

"It cannot be more than ten minutes of elapsed time from the point my guests returned to the arrival of the suspect's vehicle. Is my assessment accurate?"

"That is an accurate assessment, yes."

"That time frame, when one considers my activities, should eliminate me as a suspect."

"Unless you were merely pretending to be engaged in that activity. Do you have any proof aside from your word that you and your wife were _actually_ having sex when Special Agent Marley entered the room?"

Hannibal turned to the woman holding the evidence bags and waved her over.

"If you wouldn't mind providing one of your plastic bags, non-contaminated by any other evidence, please, I would greatly appreciate it."

Hannibal stepped out of his shoes.

The detective stood, leaning over the desk, incredulous, asked, "What are you _doing,_ Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal pulled at the strap of his belt, unfastening the buckle. He opened the clasp of his trousers and lifted the fitted Armani shirt, untucking the fabric.

"I am providing you with evidence you have requested, Detective."

In workmanlike fashion, Hannibal lowered his trousers, casually stepped out one leg at a time and standing in his boxers, draped them over the edge of the chair.

"We could do this at the station, Doctor Lecter."

Pausing, Hannibal turned.

"I will not leave this home in your company, Detective. If it is imperative that you have proof, I will indeed provide you with the evidence you require, but I will not subject my wife to the emotional torment of watching you put me in the back of a sedan and drive me away. She has been through enough."

Hannibal boldly pushed his boxers down over his hips, down his legs, and stepped out of them.

The investigators were all shocked by the scene though none, including the woman standing at Hannibal's elbow, bothered to avert their eyes.

Hannibal neatly folded the garment and, as the woman extended the open bag, carefully placed his boxers within.

"That was wholly unnecessary, Doctor Lecter."

"Was it? I believe it was absolutely necessary, Detective. If I am to be stripped and forced to provide the most personal evidence I've ever been asked to surrender, I shall do it myself, on my own terms, in my own home. There would have been an audience either way."

Redressing, careful of his zipper as he was now going commando, Hannibal boldly faced the detective.

"You may send a forensics specialist tomorrow to swab our cheeks in order to confirm the presence of Clarice's DNA and my own on the garment. Now, if you'll excuse me, my shower is long overdue. I shall ask my wife to show you out."

Not wanting Hannibal to further dictate the terms, the detective offered with an acerbic edge to his tone, "A change of plans, Doctor Lecter. I believe I will indeed need to interview your wife. Please, on your way out, _send her to me_."

Hannibal stood very still, careful not to flinch and reveal the rage burning in the center of his chest, radiating down his arms, causing his fists to clench at his sides. Feeling as if he had been treated poorly, this man would do everything he could to embarrass Clarice. Though Hannibal understood his wife was more than equal to the task, he was disturbed that he could not protect her from this intrusion.

_Though I appear sedate, if you taunt the old lion, you may face the claws, my friend. Not to worry. My magnificent young lioness can handle the likes of you. _

Hannibal bowed graciously, he annunciated very clearly, showing his teeth as spoke, "As you wish, Detective."

* * *

Hannibal entered the room to find Clarice sitting alone, waiting.

"Hey, handsome!"

"Hello, my Love. Where are your friends?"

"Logan was so damned excited about the horse he dragged Dee outside to see her, but I think that was just an excuse. He's not always a dim as he seems. I think he just wanted to give you some time to readjust after talking with the detective."

Gathering Clarice to him, Hannibal hung his chin over her shoulder, settled his hands on her hips and swayed gently with her pressed to him almost as if they were dancing. He kissed her briefly.

"Occasionally, I am thankful for his presence."

Clarice reached up, slipping her hands along his neck, cupped the back of his head and tipped it to see his eyes. Recognizing what would be invisible to anyone else, she pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. This kiss was loving, accepting, and passionate. As the tension leached from his body, Hannibal enfolded her within his arms.

Hannibal was not given to impulsivity, but as he kissed his wife his whimsy, blending with desire to redress the detective provided no end to imagined scenarios by which he might end the offensive man's life. Without his family, Hannibal would be planning the deed, but, not now, Clarice was the keel that steadied him. Holding her close, he availed himself of her pragmatic strength.

After nearly a year of marriage, Clarice understood her husband's moods and sensed the irritation leaving him. Knowing her body comforted him, she kissed Hannibal once more, stroking her fingers along the back of his neck before asking, "Everything go okay, H?"

"The detective has requested your presence, Clarice, so please be mindful of your temper as I fear his questions will be harsh and designed to either embarrass or anger. I ruffled his feathers and he's feeling quite put out."

Considering the detective's next move, Hannibal questioned Clarice.

"May I ask, where did you place the undergarments you removed prior to your shower?"

"In the hamper in the laundry room, why?"

"Because, I would like to wash them, Clarice. I've provided my boxers and that will suffice. I will not allow that man to leave with your panties as evidence, my Love."

"You think he'll ask for them? _Really_?"

"I am certain of it."

"And you said he already has your boxers?"

"Yes."

"_H?"_

"I'll explain later, my Love."

"You, you're going commando right now?"

"For the time being, yes."

"Hmmm, tempting...very tempting."

"So, I'm sure you made quite the production in there."

"Quite, but as I said, I'll explain later."

Clarice reached for her husband's hips and pulled him close, very gently grinding her body against his.

Smiling, Hannibal brushed the back of his hand along her cheek, marveling at how this contact made his heart pound relentlessly. So in control, so much the master of his body and his mind, yet standing before Clarice, he was willingly brought to his knees.

"You bet your sweet ass you will, H."

Lifting her chin, she waited for the kiss she knew he'd offer. Understanding the gesture, he lowered his head, and as his lips touched gently to hers the contact instantly comforted them both. This marriage had already endured struggles of this sort. No doubt they would face them again, though each misfortune was faced with grace and dignity. Each struggle served to bind them closer together, forging the bonds of matrimony as the blacksmith forges an iron chain.

"Don't worry, H. I can handle it."

Her husband smiled. He truly believed there wasn't a thing in this world his wife couldn't handle. She was a warrior. He had never before met a woman of such quality and substance. Clarice had true power over him; he conceded that fact willingly, contently. She was capable of stirring such emotion within him, inflaming such desire, creating such wanton need that in her arms he was no longer simply Hannibal Lecter. He was Hannibal Husband, Hannibal Lover, Hannibal Father. Holding her, their bodies were pressed so tightly together that he could feel the pulse of her heart against his. Hannibal closed his eyes, exhaled slowly and willed the beat of his heart to align with hers understanding that without her presence in his life, the sun need not rise.

"Of that, my Love, I have no doubt."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	9. Chapter 9

**For bambi012333**

**HANNIBAL'S CLARICE**

Clarice walked into Hannibal's music room listening to the investigators laughing irreverently about the body they couldn't find, joking that it must be walking around the Andes Mountains looking for its head.

Disgusted by the unprofessional nature of the scene, she turned to find the lead detective sitting at Hannibal's desk. He was leaning back in the chair, chest puffed up and shoulders thrown back, visibly doing his level best to appear intimidating. She could feel her cheeks burning, her blood pressure elevated in anger at his blatant disregard for Hannibal's status as the head of this household.

Though the detective gestured with a magnanimous sweep of his arm for her to sit, Clarice, much like her husband, remained standing. _Unlike_ her husband, Hannibal Lecter's wife didn't wait politely to be addressed. Instead she placed her hands balled in fists, knuckles down on the desk, and leaned over the piece of furniture into the man's personal space.

Seething, she challenged with teeth bared, "Did my husband give you permission to sit at his desk or is this an example of your own hubris?"

The detective instinctively leaned from Clarice as far as the chair would allow, much the way a frightened animal would retreat, cowering in submission. Hannibal Lecter was such a dominant personality the detective assumed his wife must be docile. He obviously didn't understand Hannibal and had never met Clarice. How was he to know that Hannibal respected strength? How would the man know Hannibal was attracted to the fire in his wife's heart and the steely nature of her uncompromising resolve? She was intense and courageous, Hannibal's Clarice and this detective was no match for her vigorous and relentless defense of the man who had come to be her life.

Attempting to hide the twitching of his lip, the man spoke low.

"Not as such, but he didn't require I move when he entered the room for questioning."

Clarice pointed her thumb back over her shoulder, signaling the man should move.

"Yeah, well my husband is far too polite to draw attention to your presumption but you can bet your ass I'm not. There are plenty of chairs in the room and this isn't your office so how about you get out from behind his desk before you get a taste of why _I'm_ the woman Hannibal Lecter married."

The man jumped quickly to his feet, sidestepping around the desk past Clarice.

"Of course…of course. I meant no disrespect."

"Sure you did. You can at least have the balls to admit it!"

Clarice took Hannibal's chair behind the desk, pushing past the detective as she forced him to the seat across. She made a show of scanning the objects on the surface of the desk, making no effort to hide her displeasure.

"Who the hell moved everything around? Hannibal always has his things very specifically ordered. Now everything's all messed up. Did _you_ do this?"

Not knowing what else to say, the detective was forced to concede.

"I may have moved an item or two in order to accommodate my note taking."

The investigative team stopped their movements interrupting the tasks they pretended they were performing to watch the exchange. Had Hannibal been in the room he would have testified to the sudden spike in anxiety. Clarice had swiftly become the object of interest, appearing far more volatile and unpredictable than her husband.

Her eyes were molten as she hissed, "It's not _our_ job to accommodate _you_, Detective. It's _your_ job to investigate the crime scene located at the furthest edges of our property and catch whoever left that body part out there. But, are you doing that? No. You should be taking advantage of the fact that we discovered the crime scene quickly, giving you an opportunity to set up a perimeter and establish roadblocks to find the vehicle. Are you doing that? No, of course you aren't, because then if you did that, you couldn't run home and tell all your pathetic friends who think you're a big deal how you got to investigate Hannibal the Cannibal."

There was a sudden collective gasp when she used the name, causing Clarice to slap a hand on the desk, garner everyone's attention and address the room.

"That's right, I said it…_Hannibal the Cannibal!_ Do you think I don't know the man I married? I know everything he's ever done. I know everything about him and yes _I love him_ so I'll be goddamned if I'm going to sit around here and let you waste our time looking for any reason at all to pin this bullshit on my husband. You people call yourselves investigators? Looks to me like you're nothing more than a glorified lynch mob!"

The lead detective chafed against the assessment.

"We haven't said he's a _suspect_."

"You haven't said he's a suspect? His fucking _underwear_ in an evidence bag says he's a suspect! What I find unfathomable is that you actually _are_ considering that he did it. _Really?_ He's a freaking genius the likes of which you can't even comprehend for fuck's sake and yet you think he's dumb enough to commit a crime and dump the evidence on his own front lawn? Seems a little ridiculous, don't you think? I mean, we report a crime, two active duty FBI agents provide all the details necessary; details that clearly rule my husband out as a suspect, and yet my husband was just forced to turn over his boxers to prove he and I had sex. Are you kidding me? Have you even bothered to view the surveillance tape?"

Defending himself nervously, the detective responded, "Yes of course we viewed it. We _are _attempting to be _impartial_."

Laughing in the man's face, Clarice mocked, "Impartial my ass! Please, don't insult my intelligence. _And?_ The surveillance tape?"

Looking at his watch clearly wishing he could be anywhere but in that room, he suggested weakly, "_And_, we are taking the evidence into consideration."

Giving no quarter, Clarice continued to verbally chase the man.

"What was the elapsed time from the time my car left the main gate to the time the truck pulled up. I watched the video myself- it couldn't have been more than five or ten minutes. Which was it?"

"Which was _what?_"

"Was it five minutes? Exactly?"

"Seven minutes."

"_Seven minutes?"_

Though she knew her husband was athletic and could have covered the distance, she understood they wouldn't know his capabilities.

"Hannibal is a fit man, but he isn't a young man. That short a window of opportunity absolutely proves my husband had nothing to do with the crime and you know it. Not to mention, he and I were together. Logan told you he entered the room and he told you what he saw. Now I don't know what your sexual history is, but I know my husband's and he's a very, patient and attentive lover. We were together for more than half an hour prior to Logan bursting in. That's all the information you need."

Clarice pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and began thumbing away at the keyboard obviously sending a text message. She hit send and slipped the phone back into her pocket. Within moments, Hannibal arrived in the room. He was barefoot, wearing a crisp white shirt and linen trousers, his hair slicked back from his recent shower.

"Clarice? Do you have need of me?"

She excitedly waved her husband over.

"Yeah, H. Come here."

Clarice offered her right hand to clasp Hannibal's left. Hannibal slipped gracefully past the confused detective and grasped her hand.

As she reeled him in he bowed low and whispered in her ear, brushing his lips against her neck, nuzzling his nose along her jawline allowing it to settle in the tiny depression just behind her ear. He inhaled slowly, his words a quiet exhalation of approval.

"I _love_ the seating arrangement, Clarice. _Your idea?"_

"You know it, Stud."

Decorum and his own aristocratic upbringing bade Hannibal angle his body to assure his back wouldn't be facing the detective, though his eyes remained with Clarice. She held their joined hands to her chest for a moment then lifted them to her lips kissing each of his knuckles, one-by-one.

Clarice pressed the final kiss to the knuckle of his thumb, lingering for a time. The moment her lips left his skin, she spoke to Hannibal, obviously directing the comment toward the lead investigator, "This man fucked up the things on your desk, H, and he'd really like to apologize for the disrespect and the intrusion."

Clarice turned to the detective, "_Wouldn't you_, Detective."

The man lowered his head penitently.

"My apologies, Doctor Lecter. I, of course, meant no offense."

Holding up his right hand, his left still clutching Clarice, Hannibal graciously acknowledged the detective while attempting to determine his wife's intentions.

"Apology accepted, thank you, Detective."

_Why are your motivations always such a puzzle to me while the rest of the world seems so transparent? What are you thinking, Clarice?_

Releasing his hand, Clarice gestured with palms upturned to the items on the desk.

"Go ahead and fix your things, H. I know that must have been driving you crazy having everything scattered like this."

"You know me too well, my Love."

Hannibal quickly sorted the items on the desk, arranging them in their original positions.

Clarice stood from the chair, though she remained beside her husband, gently rubbing his back.

"Did you start the laundry yet, H?"

"I sorted the items mentioned, Clarice. I placed them in the machine just now and was about to begin the wash cycle when I received your message."

Clarice waved the woman holding the evidence bags over to the desk. Confused, the woman approached.

"You have my husband's boxers in one of those bags?"

"Yes. Right here with the other evidence."

"And were you right here when he took them off? I'll guess that since he most likely placed them in the bag himself to avoid contamination, that you must have gotten one hell of a good view, yeah?"

Embarrassed to admit so in front of Hannibal, but knowing Clarice wouldn't believe a denial in any event, the woman conceded, "Well, I'll just say you're a very lucky woman, Mrs. Lecter."

"You best your ass I am. Can I get a look at the bag? I want to see which pair you have."

The woman vacillated, but couldn't come up with a valid enough reason to deny the action, so she held out the bag toward Clarice.

Without a moment's hesitation, Clarice snatched the bag from the woman's hands, ripped open the seal, reached in and pulled the boxers from within. She then folded the bag into a small square and tucked it in her back pocket.

"The only woman my husband is going to share his DNA with is me. Anybody have a problem with that?"

The woman held her hands up in surrender and stepped back. Clarice turned and glared at the detective.

"What about you? You got anything to say about this, not that I care."

The detective weakly protested, "That's evidence. You can't just _take_ it."

"_Evidence_ of _what_? You just said he wasn't a suspect. Since when's it a crime for a man to make love to his wife in his own home? You know the time stamp on that tape proves Hannibal didn't do it. If you don't have a warrant, you're not taking one thing from this home. If you really think he did it, put the handcuffs and leg shackles on him just like you've seen on television, take him into your custody and toss him in jail! If not, pack your shit up and get out of our house because I've had all I'm taking of this bullshit!"

The detective attempted to voice his objection, "Mrs. Lecter, really I'll have to ask you to…"

Clarice interrupted.

"Are you bringing my husband in or not because if you are I've got phone calls to make. Before you do, however, let me warn you, if you take him I'll go after you with so many lawyers you won't see the outside of a courthouse for the next six months. I'm actually hoping you're stupid and arrogant enough to do it, because I'd love to make an example of you to warn off every other small time piece of shit lawmen who want to make their reputation on the back of my husband."

"That's not my intention…really, Mrs. Lecter!"

"I'm sure you're all aware that my husband is a very wealthy man so you know we don't need the money but to make a point, I'll be happy to sue you for your pathetic pension. Your broke and disgraced career can serve as a warning to other weak minded law enforcement asswipes that might be misguidedly inclined to follow suit!"

Clarice planted a kiss on his cheek and handed Hannibal his underwear.

"Go on, H, they don't need this as evidence. We don't need to share our personal business with anyone here. It's not like they're going to take you in, so you go on ahead and put them in the wash with my things."

Hannibal smiled so widely the investigators were surprised.

"Are you quite sure, my Love?"

"You go ahead. I'll walk our guests out and we can go upstairs and pick up where we were when Logan interrupted. This time, in our room with the door locked."

"Yes, my Love. As you wish."

Hannibal turned, pausing in the doorway.

"Clarice?"

"Yeah, H?"

"You are magnificent."

"You can spend the whole night proving it, H. Promise?"

"Yes, my Love, that is a promise I will be thrilled to keep."

Carrying his boxers, Hannibal left the room still smiling so widely his cheeks burned.

Clarice waited for a moment until she was certain her husband reached the laundry room. She then began waving her arms in wide circles, herding the investigators from the room. She scooted them all the way down the hall, escorting them to the exit. She stood in the entryway, door flung open as the investigators filed out.

The last to leave, the detective stood, slack-jawed on the outside threshold facing Clarice. He stammered as if about to say something, but Clarice interjected.

"I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but all this experience has done was strengthen my poorly held conception of law enforcement and reinforce my decision to leave that all behind. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with my husband."

Clarice closed not only the door, but also the investigation of her husband, handling it as she had everything since she married Hannibal, confidently and on her own terms.

She is _magnificent_, Hannibal's Clarice.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	10. Chapter 10

**THE LONG DAY'S END**

Hannibal stood at an angle, shifting his weight onto his left leg as he leaned his right hip against the washing machine, propping himself up on his right elbow. His left hand clasped loosely over his right wrist. His eyes rolled closed, as he clutched the joining of hand to limb, running his thumb along his radiocarpal joint, naming sub-consciously the scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum and pisiform.

The spacing between the natural ridges of his bones caused a sudden alignment of the windows within his mind. He remembered a time long ago, running his fingers over the hilt of weapon just as he completed cleaning it and moved to set the blade on it's stand. The evenly spaced ridges of the tsuka-ito forming the grip of the hilt fell perfectly within his hand as well, as if the weapon had been made for him. The harpy was the only other weapon that he enjoyed the heft of, the feel of; the weight of the knife gripped in his hand seemed almost an extension of his body. It was not the only means by which he dispatched offensive individuals, but it was, by far, his favorite, though the katana ran a close second.

_The butcher was like butter. _

His life intensely satisfying, his days and nights so full, it was the rare opportunity now that he passed the time visiting his memory palace but the events of the day tugged at him. Remembering the feeling of separating a head from the neck, he revisited the day he killed the butcher.

As the machine whirred through the delicate cycle, he remembered the sheer size of the man, a mountain of fetid flesh, filthy, rank and offensive. The man's bulky body was of no interest to Hannibal as a food source. The only sustenance consumed from that kill had been the fish the man caught earlier in the day.

The second head he lifted was far more rewarding. Though the horse and the rope had done all the work, this man's death brought more than mere satisfaction. His cheeks, combined with Hannibal's spontaneous harvest of indigenous mushrooms quickly gathered; ample boletes, morels, and chanterelles proved to be quite tasty having been prepared on the heat of the open fire a few feet away from the man's cooling body. He wondered whether or not the bones had been discovered or scattered by the animals of the forest. The skeletal remains of Mischa's precious body deserved his love and attention therefore her remains were buried with respect and adoration. The carcass that provided his meal that afternoon was left to the scavengers; as Predator, he felt no need to show respect or care for his prey.

As a medical student waiting for the body of a condemned man, Hannibal recalled placing a crucifix on the fated man's tongue just before said convict's trip to the guillotine. The inspector had been surprised that Hannibal understood the man wished the representation of Christ to remain with his head. Being Catholic, Hannibal understood the importance of the rosary to a man facing death. He remembered seeing his mother pray, rolling the beads between her thumb, index and middle fingers, the excess wrapped around her wrist, coiled around the limb like the serpent depicted on the rod of Asclepius.

_A serpent…_

A serpent much like the story of Eden, Hannibal mused. The representative of temptation and the desire to know that which god knows, that, he understood. The apple, much like the head left at the gate, was an offering, too: a temptation. The killer believed Hannibal would be attracted to the gift of human flesh and, in fact, might wish to consume it. The man, or men, sought to fill that desire for him dropping off the head as if delivering take-out.

Surprised at the body part in the context of this form of offering, Hannibal instead would have expected a vial or other container of human blood. The actual delivery of this body part, unless it was considered simply meat and thus a meal, was surprising.

_Ever seen blood in the moonlight…it appears quite black._

Remembering the scent flooding his sinuses the moment he lifted Paul Krendler's skullcap, Hannibal's cheeks pooled with saliva. He could all but taste the flesh and thought that, had he not had his disembodied hand with which to concern himself that evening, he might have taken some of that brain. The scent of it, simmering with shallots and butter was enticing, though Hannibal knew of a lovely recipe requiring mace and sunflower seed meal he had once prepared with calf brain and thought it might be appetizing with human as well. Instead of leaving carrying his left hand, he would have much rather been fully intact and carrying Krendler's brain.

_Yes, there's a distinct scent to a head removed from its body, the leakage of cerebrospinal fluid mixing with the blood, the marrow too, if the bone were impacted. Yes, yes, very distinctive and very pleasant as well._ _Had I not promised Clarice…that self-important detective's brain might have served my culinary needs quite nicely._

Not that he found the head tucked in the cage pleasant, not even remotely. He considered himself a predator, not a scavenger and as such another man's kill was of no interest to him. The note, however, that_ did_ interest him.

_It is a week of letters, is it not? First, to have received the letter included with the armor for my son, next another letter with an offering, momentous, truly. My son will one day inherit the armor, the katana as well…perhaps my harpy, if Clarice has no objections. _

_The harpy…_

Hannibal placed it in safe keeping the moment Ardelia and Logan notified him the lead detective would indeed be questioning he and Clarice. Confident by now that the undergarments were far enough into the wash cycle to have destroyed any trace of DNA, and that the detective and his entourage were gone, Hannibal left the laundry room. Instead of turning left, proceeding further down the hallway to the master suite, he turned right.

* * *

Entering his son's bedroom he stood beside the crib breathing deeply, enjoying the scent of his child and the returned calm of his home. Hannibal leaned toward the crib and placed his hand on his son's back, allowing it to ride up and down with the boy's breath.

"Sleeping soundly? It's been a difficult day, but your brave mother insured that all would be well. You are all that I am, more even, as you will exceed me in every way because your mother is a warrior. She will stand by your side, fighting for you long after I am gone. I chose well for you, my son. You can sleep well in that knowledge, Little One."

Preparing to leave the room, Hannibal ran his hand across the underside of the crib. Tucked safely along the frame supporting the box spring and mattress, was the harpy. Removing the weapon, with the flair of prestidigitation, Hannibal slipped the blade within his sleeve.

"Thank you for keeping this safe for me, Little One. We mustn't tell your mother I trusted you with this. She might not understand."

Hannibal smiled, not bothering to alter his statement although he realized from the scent that his wife was approaching from behind.

"We mustn't tell your mother what? I know you knew I was coming, so what the heck are you teasing me about?"

Hannibal took Clarice by the elbow and guided her toward the door to assure their conversation would not wake their son.

"I'm not teasing you, Clarice. I was simply talking to our son."

Clarice pulled her arm away from her husband. She wasn't upset as such, but she didn't really want to be tugged along like a child.

"_What _might I not understand?"

Not wanting Clarice to believe he was being condescending, Hannibal ran his hand down her arm, taking her hand in his.

"I tucked the harpy beneath the crib along the mattress support beam and I was mentioning to our sleeping son that it might be a hiding place you wouldn't exactly appreciate."

Hannibal's left hand, though surgically altered to correct the mid-ray polydactylism, was still uncommonly wide so instead of gripping this hand, Clarice had taken to holding the thumb only. She was swinging their arms back and forth leaning against the doorway as she spoke. There was no sign of reproach in her voice. She was in fact, amused.

"Well, I can appreciate the fact that if the home was searched, that's the last place they'd look, but it's not the safest choice for the baby is it, H?"

Hannibal interrupted the to and fro by bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her tenderly. Looking up from her hand, he explained, "I wouldn't tuck it under a_ toddler's _bed, Clarice. It isn't as if young Hannibal can lift the mattress himself. He is an exceptional child, but that is beyond the scope of his capabilities at this stage of development."

"Well, since we're not trying to raise a little psychopath let's keep the harpy out of the baby's room. Deal?"

"Nor are we attempting to raise a Junior G-Man, Clarice. I shall bow to your wishes, but mind, my Love, that my harpy hidden under his crib will not inspire our son to crook his finger and scream, _Redrum! Redrum!"_

Laughing out loud at Hannibal's impersonation from the movie, 'The Shining', Clarice slapped her husband's shoulder playfully.

"Don't be such a wise ass, H."

Waving a hand, Hannibal gestured as if unsure as to whether or not they should return to the room.

"Heaven forbid, Clarice. Were you seeking me out, or did you plan on waking the boy and feeding him?"

Sliding her arm under Hannibal's arm and wrapping it around his waist, Clarice guided him from the room, reached back and very quietly closed the door.

"Well, it's late and he's sleeping, so let's head off to bed and see if he makes the night."

"Ah, not wanting to wake the boy. What do you have in mind, Clarice? Concerned that waking him might alter those plans? Of course, this is about the age he would begin sleeping throughout, but as you've always roused him for the last feeding, one suspects you might have thoughts as to the rest of the night."

"I'd like to finish what we started earlier, if you're up for it."

"I would be _up for it_ with the proper motivation, my Love."Hannibal paused for a moment and kissing his wife briefly, questioned further, "And your friends are?"

"My friends have already gone to their wing so if the baby stays asleep, it's our turn, H. Let's take our chances, just go to bed and enjoy each other for the night. What do you say?"

Pulling her close as they walked, arms still wrapped tightly around each other's body's as they ventured to their wing, Hannibal spoke with promise in his tone, "Where ever you lead, my Love, know that I shall follow."

* * *

Hannibal was brushing his teeth when Clarice came up behind him in the bathroom, slipping her hands along the line of his body, reaching around his bare hips to run her hands up his belly, moving upward across the span of his bare chest. Prepared for bed, neither spouse was clothed, though their nudity was of little concern.

Placing loving kisses on her husband's back and shoulders, Clarice questioned, "So, H? The detective?"

Ever mindful of his manners, Hannibal rinsed and dried his mouth before speaking. Turning into Clarice's body, he gathered her in his arms, pulling her close. Nuzzling his nose along her cheek he gathered in her scent with each inhalation, all the while brushing his lips as he spoke in short staccato bursts, teasing tiny bites of flesh between each phrase.

"No doubt…accustomed to…assuming…he's the…man with…the…most intelligence …in the…room."

Hannibal's hands slipped down her waist, settling on her hips, his thumbs tracing tiny patterns over the hollowed curve where hip sloped into belly. Turning his head into her neck further, he bit at the skin, sucking gently, teasing the flesh with his teeth.

Ticklish, Clarice coiled her arms around his neck, gripping her forearm to lift herself closer, the contact along her neck making her giggle and squirm.

"Yeah...no doubt."

Not that Hannibal minded the flood of sensations as she moved against him. Her body writhing against his, her typical response to this action was of course the primary motivation for his behavior; his typical response…quickly firming flesh as he continued relentlessly to nibble on the flesh.

"Oh, god! H…Stop…that tickles! Stop!"

Instead of stopping, the moment Clarice dropped her head back in a vain attempt to separate his teeth from her throat, Hannibal heightened the contact. Driving his face along the curve of her neck to the fully extended sternocleidomastoideus, Hannibal clamped his mouth over the muscle. Holding the band of tissue gently in his teeth he growled, turning his head from side to side, tugging as if he intended to tear out her throat.

Seeing that he had no intention of letting go, Clarice playfully slapped his shoulders arms and chest, laughing uncontrollably she was still swatting at him as he lifted her from the ground, her legs swinging as he carried her from the room.

"H…Jesus Christ!"

Hannibal unclamped his mouth releasing his grip on her flesh as he teased, "I believe the order of the appellation is Jesus _H._ Christ, Clarice."

"Oh, you are so witty! Put me down! Put me down!"

Her wriggling succeeding and not wanting to lose his grip, Hannibal bent at the waist, planted her feet for a split second to brace her weight, dropped his shoulder down to her waist, and tossed her over his shoulder, slapping her bottom.

"I'll put you down when we reach the bed, my Love. Until then, you are my captive."

Hannibal carried her to the bed, dropped her unceremoniously onto the mattress and vaulted over her body, quickly covering her body with his own.

Clarice lovingly tousled Hannibal's hair. She had behaved very confidently during her interactions with the detective, but truth be told, she had been terrified. It wouldn't have been the first time a law enforcement representative attempted to be overzealous with Hannibal and it wasn't as if there was anything Hannibal could do to stop it. If that obnoxious man wanted to drag him in, Hannibal would have had to oblige. He was at this man's mercy now that he carried his own name; he would carry the burden of it as well. Clarice, in her haste to show Hannibal how much she accepted him, saddled him with the a future that would no doubt be filled with this type of interaction.

Either that or he would have made a quick trip to his hiding place to retrieve the documents for the alternate identity he insisted they maintain for just this sort of likelihood. Clarice needed relief. She needed Hannibal, to feel him close. Her head resting on his chest, his heartbeat provided the comfort she needed to focus her thoughts.

"So, speaking of captive, that bastard really wanted a piece of you, H."

Understanding her angst, Hannibal slipped his hand under her hair and began to massage her trapezius as he questioned, "Not letting go of this, are you, my Love?"

No, he was certain she couldn't let it go; she was so angry. How dare that son of a bitch enter their home and try to push her husband around.

"He really got on my nerves, H. He wasn't even considering anyone else a suspect."

Kissing the top of her head, Hannibal pulled his wife to him.

"When he reads the letter and does some real investigative work, assuming he is capable of such, he'll understand that I had no part in the crime and that is all that matters, Clarice."

She lifted her head from his chest, seeking his eyes.

"What's the letter got to do with it, H?"

Hannibal wrapped his arms around his wife, her body warming his. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek and pressed her cheek to his chest. Placing his palm on her back he allowed it to ride up and down with the rhythm of their breathing just as he had done with his son earlier. Hannibal was as comforted by her physical presence as she was with his.

Kissing his chest, Clarice spoke, her breath gently moving the soft hairs of his chest.

Her lips on his body caused Hannibal's heart to thump; slowly he consciously controlled his body's responses realizing his wife was not seeking sex, but instead reassurance. An erection would have been an ill-timed response. His breathing slowed as he tempered his reactions, shifting his body's responses from anxiously anticipating lover to doting husband. Hopefully, lover would be wanted as well, but not yet. He would be patient and explain his thoughts. Not that the information would ease her mind. In fact, had he revealed all, she would have been terrified, but that wouldn't be necessary yet. No, information would be handed out in much the same way that Clarice herself would have doled it. This was a need to know basis only and there was certain information that Clarice, at this particular stage, didn't need to know.

"The letter is a plea for intercession. The head was left as an offering, though blood would have been the more traditional gift."

Realizing that Hannibal understood more about this case than he had let on previously, she questioned, "What kind of offering?"

Hannibal's hands left her shoulders, gliding along her back. He allowed his fingertips to trace aimless patterns in the valley just above the curve of her bottom at the base of her spine. She sighed, just an airy whisper of a sound, but it proved to Hannibal that her need was such as his. If they were to make love, she would have to initiate the contact. He wouldn't press his physical needs on her if in a fragile state of mind.

"The request is directed at me, not as myself, but in the form of San La Muerte."

She didn't like the sound of that, but Hannibal seemed unaffected, relaxed even, so she decided to take her cues from him and relax a bit. Still, the agent in her wanted details. Hannibal just wanted to touch her. As she continued to speak, he floated his hands outward, resting them on her hips, resisting the urge to center his body and enter hers.

"What? What the hell is San La Muerte?"

"A supernatural being not at all unlike the archangels, though not accepted by the hierarchy of the Catholic Church as it is considered paganism, but one that is traditional to the folk Catholicism practiced in this area."

Clarice was calming. Hannibal's voice had that affect. No matter how unnerving the situation, when he explained, even the most tumultuous circumstance seemed calm.

Her right hand floated down the outside of his thigh.

"What type of intersession, H?"

He copied the action as he spoke, using his fingers to lightly stroke her skin upward.

"Normally, as a request for protection against the evil eye, health, love, but the offering for such requests would be alcohol, food, etcetera. This is a particularly violent offering leading me to believe the request might be to keep someone out of prison, or to lessen a prison term…potentially, bring death to an enemy, any number of things. Rest assured, there will be more of them."

This time, she reached for his inner thigh, clasping the muscle, massaging.

"More of what? Body parts?"

Hannibal copied Clarice's actions once more.

"Potentially. With this cult, any manner of offerings would do. We must wait and see."

"Cult? Should I be afraid, H?"

"Not at this point, Clarice, though as I said…we must wait and see. It isn't a cult as such. It's an off-shoot of Catholicism that has taken root in this area."

Huddling against his body, Clarice ran her hand over his chest.

"Are you telling me everything, H?"

"I need more information, Clarice. I need to see that letter. The specific request would be written and that would direct me as to the intent of this person or persons. Without it, I can make no guarantees. This aspect of Catholicism, has filtered into the National Prison System therefore the individual making the request could be quite unsavory. There is no way to decipher the intentions without reading what would have been illustrated within that letter. We need to find a way to get a look at it."

"Pearsall?"

"Pearsall."

Hannibal could feel the tension seeping from every pore of Clarice's body. He thought of something that might comfort her.

"My Love?"

"Yes, H?"

"Hold me."

Smiling widely, Clarice wrapped her arms around Hannibal.

Hannibal smiled.

"Clarice?"

"Yeah, H?"

"Kiss me."

Lifting her chin to reach his lips, Clarice scooted her body upward atop Hannibal's until her mouth covered his. He groaned as she shifted her body settling her chest on his, their lower extremities aligned. Wrapping her arms around his head cradling him gently, her lips searched his for several minutes. The moment their lips parted, Hannibal smiled widely.

"My Love?"

"Yeah, H?"

"Take me."

Clarice smiled.

_**Until the next chapter my friends, **_

_**LH**_


	11. Chapter 11

**A MOMENT MORE**

Clarice laughed as she straddled her husband, sitting back on his hips, her hands resting on her thighs. Her hair curled, falling across her bare shoulders as she shook out the tresses to flip an errant strand from her forehead, Hannibal gasped as her breasts shifting with the movement, his mouth dropped open slightly, captivated.

Seeing his response, Clarice teased, "Take you? Where?"

Grasping the cheeks of her bottom, he squeezed and urging her movement though he had not penetrated, rocked her over him rolling his hips gently with the rhythm he sought. His rich baritone like satin, lush with passion.

"To heaven, my Love."

Hannibal lunged upward kissing Clarice, his body angled forward until he reached a sitting position. He pulled her against his body as close as he could manage and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Roaring friskily, Hannibal drove his face against her neck placing tiny love bites across the surface of her skin. He tilted his head slightly, admiring the small marks, tiny livid marks raised by his contact.

Hypersensitive to his touch, ticklish and giggling uncontrollably, Clarice pulled back and fighting for control of his hands, gripped her husband by the wrists pinning his fists to his chest. She flashed a victorious grin, leaning onto her forearms forcing the majority of her body weight to the task of trapping him.

Battling her husband's impatience she urged, "C'mon, H! You said I'd be in charge, so be a man of your word and get prepared for the back seat, Buddy!"

Smiling, but noticeably impatient and hobbled by his inability to use his hands, Hannibal bucked his body upward tossing Clarice off his hips and onto his thighs to fully reach the sitting position again.

Though he could easily have wrested his hands from her grip, he allowed her continued control. Leaning close, the heat of his breath warming her neck, he hissed against her ear in his best dungeon tone, "Yes, Clarice. As long as you don't mind a bit of back seat driving from time to time, my Love."

Still laughing at his persistence, she scrambled up his hips, grabbed his shoulders and shoved him backward, forcing him to the mattress. Pulling his arms quickly apart she spread them out and pinned them crucifix style to the bed, covering his body with hers. Leaning on top of him, her collarbone his target as Hannibal craned his neck, nibbling at her clavicle, gently sucking the flesh covering the bone.

"You're mine, H and I'm not letting you go."

Hannibal pretended to struggle tossing his body back and forth on the bed, acting as if Clarice had him mercilessly and unavoidably pinned though she was little more than an inconvenience.

Clarice bowed her head, kissing her husband slowly, chastely, her body rocked over his, shifting and grinding against him.

Hannibal groaned, his body tensing, every muscle taut as she pressed her lips to his. Slowly, almost tortuously, Clarice dragged her tongue along the separation, shifting her hips over him even as her tongue slipped within his mouth. Growling, Hannibal captured her lower lip with his teeth, gnawing at the meaty flesh of the inner lip, tugging. All the while, his hands searched her body, exploring.

Enjoying his attention, Clarice very softly, lightly, hummed her appreciation to encourage his sounds. She loved the way he focalized when they made love. It was so primal, so raw. She was certain she was the only woman to have been gifted this response, this utter release of his want, his need. She closed her eyes, enveloped within the deep rumbling sounds of his passion.

The sweet purr of approval coming from Clarice further stirred Hannibal. His physiology no reflection of his age, Hannibal quickly responded to her touch. The sounds of their lovemaking wafting around them like the notes of a symphony, his heart tripped with the rhythm of her sighs.

Bending his knees toward his body, his legs forced Clarice's body to slide forward over his groin. Even if he had not made his need clear with voice or action, the firmness of his body made no secret of his intentions. Clarice settled over his firm flesh, now pressed against her, she could feel his pulse at her center. He was ready. Perhaps overly so.

"Patience, H…"

"No. Now, please, Clarice. Now."

He flexed the muscles of his chest, pulling his arms together, bringing her hands in with his. He kissed each palm and released her hands, settling each on his shoulders. He then grasped at her shoulders pulling her aggressively to his body, his kiss now rough and demanding as he clutched at her mouth with his own. He spoke against her cheek, hungrily seeking her lips with his own.

"Clarice…my Clarice…"

Again, his wife was forced to pull back. Cupping his face within her hands, she sought his eyes hoping to redirect his intensity. Confused by the pause, Hannibal turned his eyes upward, his brows furrowed at the disruption. He was frustrated by the distraction.

"Slow down, H…what's the hurry?"

His eyes fiery with passion, he pressed, "The baby may wake soon, Clarice. Though I know it might seem quite the extravagance especially this day, but I'd like our lovemaking to be uninterrupted."

"Okay, but let's not rush, H…if the baby wakes up, he'll go back to sleep soon."

"Not soon enough for me, Clarice."

"Okay, H…okay."

Needing to feel close and not wanting to continue to tire her arms, Clarice allowed the luxury of fully resting her weight on his body, her frame tiny, the burden on Hannibal light. Deciding it might be entertaining to tempt him further, she lifted her torso just slightly, twisting her upper body very gently slightly from side to side, the soft hairs on his chest tickling her swaying breasts. Again, he groaned low.

"_Clarice…" _he spoke low, his tone of voice was almost a growl, illustrating his displeasure.

"Like I said before, patience, H. Good things come to those who wait."

"My own words back at me, Clarice?"

Clarice kissed the tip of his nose, a silent quest for his forbearance.

"Yeah, well it's not like you don't toss my words back in my face all the time."

Hannibal winked.

"Not while we are naked and preparing for an evening of lovemaking, Clarice."

"Yeah, nice try, Stud. I'm going to enjoy every deliciously dragged out minute of this."

Hannibal smiled, teeth flashing wickedly as he realized her intention.

"Are you proposing a victory would be your ability to prolong our lovemaking? If you are making this a war of attrition, if you consider that a win, I shall gladly accept defeat, my Love. The more you are able to extend this activity, trust me when I say, the happier I'll be. I shall concede the field now and humble myself before you"

Unfazed, Clarice continued kissing his face, his lips, his cheeks, his chin, his nose, tiny pecks and nibbles to show her love and heighten his desire along with her own.

"Just shut up and kiss me, H."

Biting his lower lip, Hannibal's eyes twinkled, thrilled with the prospect.

As Hannibal reached for her face kissing her tenderly, Clarice concentrated on his increased respirations, riding up and down with the rise and fall of his chest as if floating on the waves of the ocean. Her breasts still pressed firmly against his body, the expansion of his ribs widened with each quickening breath creating a hollow, her body cradled comfortably within as if their torsos were cut from the same mold, the positive and negative of matched pairs. Hannibal's hands skimmed the surface of her skin, floating his palms, fingertips dancing on her flesh as he searched every inch of her body.

Hannibal's deep breathing created a wave of muscle and bone, allowing their forms to undulate as they kissed. Now gliding his hands up the length of her arms and over the cap of her shoulders, he passed them across her back, down the length of her spine to the gentle curve of the small of her back, spanning out to settle on her hips.

As Clarice searched his lips with her own, gently probing, Hannibal gently stroked his fingertips over the tiny dimples just above her buttocks, framing the small of her back.

Each lover seemed utterly content to explore the other's body. An hour, maybe slightly more passed with the contact barely escalating beyond the gentle caress of fingertips over flesh, the brush of a palm over the peak of a breast, the gentle stroke of his length, casual and unhurried. Occasionally, Hannibal would seek her breast, though not for long. Clarice was in control, he would follow her lead.

Hannibal's lips left hers, searching the elegant line of her jaw, his tongue tracing the underside of her profile, tasting.

"Will we continue this all night, my Love or do you have plans to bring this to some mutually satisfying conclusion?"

"Got something in mind?"

"A wealth of possibilities, Clarice, although I did relinquish control of the evening's activities to you, so, I bow to your wishes."

Clarice shifted her hips, leaning forward and whispered in his ear.

"You win…"

"Yes, I did, Clarice. I won the moment you chose me for your own, my Love."

"You really are a smart man Hannibal Lecter."

"One tries, Clarice…one tries."

Hannibal clutched at Clarice's hips as he positioned himself strategically beneath her body, though he didn't press toward her. He rested at her center, poised, sliding within, but not fully penetrating. He moved his hips, sliding within the separation of flesh, pressing upward at an angle knowing the friction would enflame her passion.

Moaning, Clarice arched her back and leaned forward, allowing her head to drop toward Hannibal.

"H…oh, H…"

"When you're ready, my Love…I await your desire."

Feeling his readiness, Clarice leaned forward.

Understanding her movements, Hannibal gripped himself at his base, whispering, low, his rich with desire as he tested her entrance and quickly thrust upward, urging, "Sing to me, my Love…sing to me."

Hannibal's heart pounded as he pressed his flesh within his love, all the while listening for the sound he longed for; the sound that made his heart skip a beat each and every time he entered her.

Leaning forward, her head lowered as her body slowly opened to her husband, Clarice sighed.

Hannibal gasped at the gentle exhalation, so moved by the sound of her body accepting his, "You were made for me, my Love. Every sound you make, every movement of your body makes my heart soar. You are mine, Clarice…mine, as I am yours."

Hannibal rocked his hips, pulling her with him, to him, his body arching up, his lips seeking her breasts now gently brushing alongside his cheeks. He captured her flesh in his mouth, gently latching, tenderly tasting as she exhaled slowly, controlling her breathing through pursed lips, the contact burning low, her body tingling from his touch, within and without.

Hannibal drove his body forward, rocking gently, encouraging Clarice to match his movements. Wanting to please her, he clutched her shoulders pulling her body low to increase the physical stimulation, providing the necessary friction, swaying as he drove himself further, whispering in her ear.

"Clarice…my Love, my life…each time you… give yourself to me… I know you…could have…any man…Thank you…my Love…for choosing…me…"

Clarice nuzzled her nose along his neck, whispering in his ear.

"Only you…Hannibal…only you…"

"I know my Love…I know."

Rubbing his cheek against hers, feeling her body beginning to tense, driving his hips upward repeatedly as his wife gripped his shoulders, balancing on the edges of her climax, her body shaking uncontrollably she teetered on the fringes of restraint, waiting for that sound or movement to sweep her over the precipice, tumbling in his arms.

"Let go, my Love…I have you…let go…"

His voice in her ear was all the encouragement she needed as she surrendered to him, her body quaking in his arms, muscles tensing around his body.

Though Hannibal had been a moment away from his end, he suddenly became distracted by her scent.

_Estrogen reduced…progesterone increased…_

Discreet, as if the contact were part of their lovemaking, Hannibal touched his forehead to his wife's forehead, testing her body temperature. There was no more than a degree or two of difference, but a difference there was.

_Increase in body temperature…Clarice…_

Processing the information, as he actively assessed his wife, Hannibal slipped his hand along the lower right quadrant of his wife's abdomen. Pressing gently, there was no response. Shifting his attention to Clarice's lower left quadrant, again, Hannibal gently palpated the lower abdomen. Suddenly, Clarice's body flinched.

"Ow, H…come on, that's tender today."

"Apologies, Clarice. I was merely enjoying you. It wasn't my intention to cause you any discomfort."

Hannibal shifted his attention to his own end, increasing his movements, considering simultaneously his wife's menstrual cycle. Counting backward, he confirmed that she was indeed mid-cycle. Hannibal smiled. His wife was currently ovulating, so, if he came to completion there would be a very good chance he would impregnate Clarice.

Suddenly, the baby began to vocalize causing Clarice to sit up and take notice.

Hannibal, realizing the baby was perfectly comfortable, ignored the activity, instead, pulling Clarice to him. The distraction combined with his thoughts, were putting his satisfaction on hold. Hannibal, seeking to escalate his arousal, gripped fistfuls of Clarice's hair, breathing deeply, gently tugging her to him.

Clarice's only concern was her son, now babbling loudly over the intercom. She was becoming irritated that Hannibal was obviously ignoring their baby. Anxious, she pulled her hair from his grip and moved to climb off her husband. Hannibal, not wanting to miss the opportunity, knowing how tenuous ovulation could be, held her to him.

"He's hungry, H...Let me go."

"Please, Clarice…a moment…a moment more…"

Thinking he was more concerned with his orgasm than his son, Clarice shoved Hannibal. Agitated and driven, he gripped her, flipped himself over rolling her with him and continued to chase his climax.

"H...what the hell!"

"While he is seeking you, he isn't being harmed, Clarice."

Hannibal thrust quickly, efficient in his movements as he attempted to expedite his release. Sensing his wife's rising discomfort, all the while he whispered, "Allow me this, my Love…please, for our son…"

Moments later Hannibal's body tensed, his hips thrust in several quick bursts. Finally, he pressed himself deeply within, and shuddered as he groaned his wife's name.

Though she was expressly upset, Clarice allowed his completion without complaint. When she was certain he was finished, she tried to push him to the side in order to move him, get up and get the baby. Hannibal jumped to his feet, not wanting her to stand.

"No, Clarice. I'll get Devyni. Please, rest. I shall bring our son to you."

Upset with what she considered his inconsiderate behavior, she voiced her displeasure, "You made him wait long enough, and don't you ever insinuate that your orgasm will please our son! _Seriously!_ What the hell does that even _mean_, H?"

Hannibal quickly slipped on his robe and headed for the door. Unlocking it, he paused for a moment to answer.

"Not my orgasm, Clarice. You're ovulating. I wished to finish because I believe the baby in your womb will please our son."

With that, Hannibal slipped out of the room, leaving Clarice alone. Perhaps.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	12. Chapter 12

**CHOICES**

Clarice watched Hannibal leave the room without performing his expected ritual of muting the intercom.

_That's odd. He's never left the intercom open when he leaves to get the baby._

It was so unusual that she immediately made note of it. Normally, when the baby was brought to Clarice, Hannibal switched off the intercom as he exited the bedroom. This time, he made no move toward the controls. Clarice rested quietly and wondered why.

_He's probably distracted, thinking I'm upset. Should I be? I mean it's not as if the baby waited long. He wasn't even crying, he just seemed to be calling for us. Maybe I overreacted. I'll have to make sure H knows I'm not mad at him. _

Clarice rested on her side, waiting for Hannibal to bring their son. Suddenly, she was surprised to hear his voice. Looking toward the door, she realized he had left the other end of the intercom open as well and she could plainly hear him moving around in the baby's room.

"Well, hello, my son. Mother is waiting for you. You are such a big boy now, patiently waiting for Daddy. Did you sleep well?"

_Daddy…God, I love that man._

Clarice smiled. Hannibal's voice was so filled with love the moment he spoke the baby began cooing as if answering his father.

_What was I so freaked out about. He's not upset he's just excited to see his daddy. _

Clarice could hear her husband singing as he carried the baby to the changing table. She listened, straining her ear in an effort to decipher the song.

_He isn't speaking English. It isn't Italian either. It must be Lithuanian. Most likely something he sang to his sister. His sister…_

* * *

As he changed his son's diaper, the baby began to babble, focused on his father's hand. Reaching for it, he grabbed his father's thumb and gripped it tightly.

Hannibal was moved by the contact and lifting his hand, his son's joined to his, he stopped singing to kiss the baby's hand all the while continuing to converse with his son.

"Your mother holds my hand in much the same way."

As the baby continued to vocalize, the volume increased with the baby's excitement. Hannibal placed his right hand on his son's ribs just above the diaphragm, feeling the timbre of sound resonate within the baby's body.

"You are very happy tonight. I must say you have a lovely tone, little one. No doubt your voice will be commanding. Powerful."

As the baby responded with a series of his own imagined words, Hannibal tilted his ear toward his son. Obviously excited that his father was almost within his grasp, the baby reached with both hands toward his father's face. Hannibal lowered his head, allowing his child to pat his cheeks, expressing himself vocally the entire time.

Smiling widely, Hannibal responded, "What? Yes, of course, she is very excited to see you as well. Don't worry, as soon as you are dry and ready, I'll carry you to Mother and your hunger will be sated. She loves you very much you know, and she'll always take care for you. As I've told you many times before, I chose well for you, my son."

The baby babbled happily as if responding to his father. Hannibal's voice remained quiet as his son spoke and as if predicting the rhythm, each moment the baby paused Hannibal's response naturally filled the silence. It was as if he understood every word of emergent language the baby spoke, as if the vernacular of nascent discourse was fully realized.

"No…no, I don't think she's angry with me, though she was worried that you might be upset having to wait. You'll have to help your father by reassuring her, Devyni. Mother doesn't want you harmed in any way. Your needs will exceed any and all considerations, myself included, and that is as it should be. Come, let us go see her and show Mommy what a big boy you are. As I am, she will be so very proud of you."

* * *

Clarice listened as Hannibal opened and closed the door to the nursery. Realizing he would be in the room in a moment, and that the entire conversation he just had with his son, though beneficial, had not been only for the baby's benefit, but her own as well, Clarice smiled.

_Yeah…left the intercom on accidentally, my ass. By now I should realize that with Hannibal, there are no accidents. Still, he's so brilliant. He doesn't dumb anything down. Our children will be remarkable. Our children…_

Hearing her husband's approach, Clarice closed her eyes, playfully feigning sleep.

_Okay, wise ass, let's see how you handle a sleeping wife and a hungry baby._

Hannibal entered the room very quietly, and didn't bother to turn on the lights. His eyes were perfectly suited to the low light and he believed the darkened room was suited to nighttime nursing.

Approaching the bed, Hannibal bowed slightly, expecting his wife to turn toward him to accept their son. When she didn't, seeing his wife's eyes closed but hearing no significant change to the rhythm of her breathing, his eyebrow lifted slightly.

Her motivations were often a mystery to him, so, instead of expressing frustration Hannibal whispered to his wife, his tone feathered with the slightest hint of confusion, "Clarice?"

She shifted slightly as if the movement of the mattress lightly disturbed her sleep but she didn't speak, wondering what he might do next.

Holding is son close to his chest, Hannibal carefully lifted first one leg onto the mattress, then the other and using his right arm for support, scooted slowly toward his wife. Reaching her side, reclining slowly as he cradled his son's head with his palm, Hannibal very gently lowered his body beside Clarice. She was turned toward him, so he watched her expression as he spoke.

_You're certainly not sleeping…teasing perhaps. Two can play that game as well, my Love._

His voice low, he offered, "Clarice, the boy needs to nurse so you'll excuse my presumption."

Moving her right arm and placing it at her side, Hannibal cuddled against Clarice, resting the baby in the crook of her left arm, now falling casually across the bed. Edging closer, he curled his body around his family to provide support. Slipping his hand beneath Clarice's left breast, lifting gently he offered the breast to his child. The baby nuzzled, searching.

"Are you having trouble latching?"

A mischievous smile tugged at Hannibal's mouth. Supressing the smile but not the wicked intention behind it, he kissed the top of his baby's head and moved him slightly away from his wife.

"Allow me to assist you, little one."

Hannibal reached for his wife, lightly skimming his palm across her breast.

_No response? Oh, you're good, Clarice…_

"Just a moment, young Hannibal, it's very dark. You'll be drinking in no time."

Using his thumb and index finger, Hannibal gently grasped his wife's nipple and tweaked it. Chuckling as Clarice gasped, Hannibal rolled the hardened flesh between his finger and thumb, the milk slick as the digit stimulated her flesh, tightening at his touch.

"_Sleeping_, Clarice?"

Taking the baby from her husband's arms, she responded with equal sarcasm, "_Forgot _to mute the intercom, H?"

"I never claimed to have forgotten the intercom."

"No, but you're still using your conversations with the baby to get your points across to me. A little passive-aggressive, H?"

"Passive-aggressive? There is nothing passive about me in regards to you, Clarice. With you, I'm aggressive-aggressive. You bring out the animal in me, my Love."

Clarice brought her son to her breast and Hannibal smiled as his son latched immediately. Normally, as his wife nursed, he would gather his family to him, but he wasn't positive how she felt. She had been irritated earlier by his behavior and though he hadn't thought himself inconsiderate as he had assured her satisfaction, he didn't want to upset her as she fed their son.

Noticing the distance, and figuring she'd teased him enough, Clarice nestled against him as the baby suckled.

Hannibal sighed.

_All is well._

Clarice kissed the top of her son's head. He was fine. A moment's wait hadn't hurt him in any way. It wasn't as if he was upset, he hadn't even cried. He was babbling happily when Hannibal retrieved him. She thought about the conversation Hannibal had with their son. He was a wonderful father, more so than she could have ever imagined. He must have been not only very loved by his parents, but truly treasured as he treasured his son.

_He really wants a daughter. He would be so wonderful with a little girl._

"H?"

Basking in the love of family, Hannibal was dozing contentedly until the sound of his wife's voice called him to consciousness.

"Yes, Clarice?"

Using the back of her hand, dragging her nails to stroke the full length of Hannibal's thigh from his hip to his knee, she questioned, "You wouldn't immediately get the baby because you thought you might be able to get me pregnant tonight?"

Before answering, Hannibal kissed the top of his son's head.

"Yes."

Her hand now stroked the hollow of his hip.

He closed his eyes and gently shifted his hip, exposing himself to her touch. Seeing his openness to her touch, she began to drag her nails under his belly, lightly etching from one hip to the next.

"So, you don't think it could have waited an hour?"

He growled his response, "_No_."

"That's it? Just…no? You don't think you'd like to add anything else to that?"

Hannibal shifted his focus from her touch to the moment he made the decision. He took in a deep breath, turned his leg over to limit the contact so he might be more able to form a thought, and explained.

"I really don't have anything to add other than the fact that I believe you are indeed ovulating and I didn't wish the opportunity to pass. There is a post-coital glow that overcomes after we make love. Not to mention that you often fall asleep with the baby in your arms if you have been fulfilled. It would be highly inconsiderate rousing you for such a purpose and being that you had already been satisfied, I didn't consider my actions rude."

Clarice looked down at her hand, tracing aimless patterns on the baby's arm and realized Hannibal was doing the same thing on the baby's back, but the patterns he made were anything but random.

"What about Dev, H?"

Hannibal continued to trace small infinity symbols on his son as he spoke.

"Devyni was babbling happily waiting for my arrival, he wasn't crying. He wasn't injured in any way, so I fail to see the problem. We _have_ discussed this. I expressed the desire to have more children and you agreed. We've not been using birth control, Clarice. The eventual outcome of unprotected sex will be a child."

Clarice pressed her right knee between Hannibal's legs, hooking her limb around his, using her strength to pull him in close.

"I know you want Dev to have a brother or sister eventually, but not necessarily tonight, H. Maybe we should have talked first? What do you think?"

Hannibal lowered his head.

"There is medication you can take to make certain I have not impregnated you, Clarice. I shall make that purchase in addition to a supply of condoms tomorrow. If you'd like to resume taking birth control, I'll bow to your wishes. I apologize as I was mistaken earlier. It wasn't my choice to make. If you aren't ready, we can wait."

When he lowered his head, her heart sank. There was a sound of melancholy in his tone that she had never heard from him, a sadness that pierced her soul.

"You really want more babies that badly, H?"

Hannibal wrapped his legs around Clarice's leg, their ankles locked and edged closer. "I am not a young father and you are not a young mother, my Love. I would prefer sooner rather than later. I believed we were on the same page or my behavior would have been different."

Her son suckling, his tiny hungry mouth feeding happily at her breast warming her heart, Clarice agreed, "No pills or condoms, H. We'll see where this takes us."

"If you say so, Clarice. As I said, I will honor your wishes in either case."

Considering the matter now settled, Clarice shifted her attention to another subject.

"Did you ever write that letter to your aunt, thanking her for the baby's gift?"

Hannibal closed his eyes.

"I have started the letter many times, but have yet to finish."

Seeing the immediate disconnect, Clarice questioned, "Why? Are you getting distracted? I know the police poking around must be disconcerting. I'd think a head wired to a barrel by preoccupy most people."

Settling his cheek on his pillow, he prepared to sleep. His voice showed no agitation. In fact, he almost seemed bored by the topic.

"Not as such. I simply have nothing to say."

Clarice touched a hand to his cheek, stroking the back of her hand along his jawline.

"You don't have to make a federal case of it, H. A simple thank you is a good start."

Turning his face, he kissed her hand.

"Are you certain? Considering the gesture, I assumed more would be expected."

Clarice couldn't argue the point. He was right. She was certain more was, maybe not expected, but possibly, hoped for. She offered her opinion.

"Well…she might like to meet the baby."

Hannibal's response was immediate, his voice now adamant.

"I'll not drag my child overseas for a woman who pretended, from the age of twenty to sixty, that I did not exist."

His neutrality extinguished with all the subtly of a backdraft, Clarice was caught off-guard.

"Are you still upset about that?"

Again, his eyes closed. "No."

"Just no? Care to elaborate?"

His voice was monotone in response to her question, "I shall attend to the note tomorrow."

"But, you won't consider bringing the baby to meet her?"

"No, I will not."

Regrouping, Clarice thought it might be acceptable to offer an alternative.

"What if we invited her here? She wouldn't have to be underfoot. She can use the guesthouse. That way, she would have privacy and we wouldn't have to kick Ardelia and Logan out of their wing. She'd be more comfortable there anyway, in the event she'd like to stay awhile."

Hannibal's voice was uncharacteristically soft.

"Is this that important to you, Clarice? That she meet our son?"

"I think it's important, not only to me, but for you and the baby as well. Did you see the return address on the shipping information?"

She was certain he had noticed the return address. He was Hannibal Lecter. He didn't miss a thing. He would have seen the address was that of an elderly nursing facility akin to a substandard old age home. Clarice had looked up the address. She was certain Hannibal had as well.

"Yes."

"That doesn't make you feel guilty? Hell, I don't even know the woman and somehow I feel guilty."

Clarice was surprised there was not a hint of remorse, not that he had any reason to feel guilty. He had provided for Lady Murasaki's medical care and had he know she needed further assistance he would have handled that as well. The lawyer he engaged to oversee the finances would have restructured the trust fund to include a housing allowance had Hannibal been made aware of the need.

"No. Why should it make me feel guilty? I have made every effort to provide for her needs. I cannot be faulted if her pride encouraged silence."

He was right, of course. He was always right, but that didn't stop Clarice from feeling empathy for the woman's circumstances.

"Because in Japanese culture it's unusual for an elderly woman not to live with her family. It wasn't that long ago that it was the law for the eldest son to care for his mother. She's our responsibility, H."

"Clarice. I am _not_ her son."

"She is your only living relative and you are hers."

"By marriage alone, Clarice."

"H…I know she rejected you, but we've got all we need and more. Why not have her come here? We could give her a much better life. I feel like I owe her, H. If she hadn't taken you in, your life would have been very different. I might have never met you."

"I shall write a note of thanks for the gift and the gesture behind it. I will be quite clear as to my feelings. If you would like to extend an invitation, you may make all the necessary arrangements. I will not involve myself to that extent, and I'll not stop you from doing what you feel you must but I wish to be absolutely clear that she will be _your _guest."

"And you won't be mad about it?"

Hannibal was shocked by the inference.

"Have I ever disrespected any one of your guests or made them to feel unwelcome?"

Thinking of how patient Hannibal had been with her friends, especially with fanboy Logan, she replied with a smile.

"No, H. You've been perfect."

Hannibal leaned over his son, now sleeping soundly and kissed his wife.

"Do as you see fit, Clarice. I shall lend my support to whatever decision you make."

Wanting to solidify his permission, she reiterated, "If you're sure, I'll extend the invitation tomorrow."

"As you wish, Clarice. As you wish."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	13. Chapter 13

**DINING AL FRESCO**

Pearsall had made a few phone calls on their behalf, so an appointment was made with the lead detective to go over the evidence found at the main gate. There was one codicil to the arrangement. No Hannibal. He was not, under any circumstances, to be brought anywhere near the police station. Pearsall's orders.

The moment Clarice, Ardelia and Logan took the ride to the police headquarters to see what they might be able to find out about the case, Hannibal went to his study. The baby was sleeping, and with time on his hands, Hannibal had a letter to write.

Sitting in front of the blank piece of paper he stared for a moment. There wasn't much he wanted to say.

Holding the quill he'd cut from the found tail feather of Harpia Harpyja, the Harpy Eagle, he poised to write. He gripped the calamus and, rolling his thumb, index and middle fingers, began to spin the feather. He then stroked the vane across his cheek much like he would a straight edged razor, contemplated the body of the letter.

_A simple thank you? Perhaps._

Again, spinning it between the pads of his fingertips, Hannibal enjoyed the pattern of this long, dark grey feather with the alternating horizontal bars. The beauty and symmetry appealed to him as much as the fact that Harpies mates for life and feast on sloths. Hannibal thought, as a hunter, perhaps they had that in common. The idea amused as he smoothed the heel of his hand across the paper, angled his head slightly, and dipped his pen in the well of ink to begin the correspondence. Scrolling the letters in his elegant copperplate, he authored:

_Dear Lady Murasaki, _

_I hope this letter finds you well. Please accept my apologies for the lateness of this reply unfortunately personal circumstances prevented a timely response. _

_Please allow me to thank you for the gift you bestowed upon my son. It was a thoughtful and meaningful choice. I will indeed share the rich history of the armor and the proud family from whence it came with Hannibal as he comes of age. You may rest assured that I will care for and protect your heritage until he reaches adulthood and is prepared to accept the responsibility that comes with owning such a priceless family heirloom. _

_Again, I offer my appreciation for the thoughtfulness and generosity of your gift to my son, and for your letter as well. My most precious wife, Clarice, will be including an invitation with this letter. Feel free, if it is your inclination, to accept. If you are feeling up to traveling you might like to visit my family to meet your great-nephew, Hannibal. He is a fine boy, and, unlike his namesake, one you will no doubt be quite proud to claim as your family member._

_Sincerely, _

_Hannibal Lecter_

Hannibal sat for a moment waiting for the ink to dry. He considered putting the letter in the envelope and sealing it, but thought better of it.

_Clarice might like to read this before she writes a letter of her own._

He left the letter in full view on the center of his desk, additionally leaving the stationery out for Clarice's use.

The windows open, the breeze rustling through the trees and pouring over the sill, Hannibal's nostrils flared and his ears pricked.

_There is someone outside. _

Hannibal judged that someone was near the barn at the outer perimeter of the property. Wishing to intercept the trespasser, he moved with haste to the door, grasped the handle and as he prepared to exit, stopped short.

_Hannibal…I can't leave the boy alone. I cannot investigate. _

Hannibal lifted his chin and turned his head from side to side as if gathering the scent on his cheeks. He inhaled and exhaled.

_The windows on the next level are open…_

His mind immediately flashed to the deviant who had accessed their home in Baltimore by utilizing the balcony and climbing equipment. Bolting up the staircase he ran as quickly as his feet could carry him, gripping the rail and pulling at his arms to slingshot his frame, propelling his body forward. The window was indeed open. Hannibal closed the window, locked it and stood beside the crib, his chest heaving from the anxiety and adrenalin rush as the baby began to stir.

"Ah, my son, you sense it as well? Perhaps if you were older, we might hunt together but you are far too young. Not to mention, your mother would be homicidal if I were to take you outside knowing there might be danger. Though I am proud that she is a warrior, she can be a loose cannon at times and I am not foolish enough to provide her with such ammunition, aiming her anger in my direction."

* * *

Hannibal sat quietly beside Clarice on the overstuffed sofa as she nursed. She refused to discuss the situation at the police station until the baby finished feeding. That didn't bode well, Hannibal assumed. Had the result been productive or positive in any way she would have been pleased to share the information. That she was hesitant he understood the result to be less than satisfactory, and, as she refused to discuss it while breastfeeding, the cause of anxiety somehow. The moment the child released his mother's breast and Clarice had the opportunity to right her clothing and remove the fabric privacy shield slung over her body, Ardelia stood, extended her arms and beckoned for the baby.

"Hey Clarice, can Logan and I spend some time alone with Dev? Maybe you guys can get lost for a couple of hours. You could use the time alone and the baby won't stay with us if either of you're in the room."

Logan immediately jumped in.

"Yeah, you two can go out and get some dinner or something. You let us go out the other day. Least we can do is return the favor."

Clarice looked at Hannibal, her eyes questioning.

"H?"

Hannibal quietly bumped his thumb along the bottom of his baby's toes, rolling the digit in tiny circles over the ball of his son's foot. Hannibal smiled when the baby spread his toes and tried to grip his father's thumb with them. Though he didn't make eye contact with his wife, he responded, "I don't know whether or not it is safe, Clarice. There was activity outside the home today."

Cupping her hand protectively over the baby's head, she leaned forward to better see Hannibal. There was not fear, but trepidation in her voice.

"Activity? What sort of activity?"

Hannibal's eyes stayed with his son.

"Movement, that is all."

"Any of it caught on camera?" Clarice quizzed, apprehension slowly giving way to fear.

Hearing the rising concern, Hannibal looked up, waving a hand as if dismissing her concerns.

"No, the interloper was cautious, staying just out of the sightline of the cameras. I may add several more to extend the area of coverage."

One hand left the baby as Clarice touched Hannibal's thigh.

"Did he get close, H?"

Feeling the searing intensity of her fear as if her touch burned with it, Hannibal pressed his palms over his wife's hand and trapped it against his thigh, smothering her concerns, he comforted, "He didn't break the perimeter, if that's what you are asking, which means he stayed well out of range of the camera system. Did you have any success at the police station? Have they any new leads."

Discouraged by the lack of control, Clarice's response was laced with frustration as she responded, "They'd have to be looking for leads to find any so no, and we didn't have any success personally, but none of us can pick up a scent like you can."

Equally frustrated that he was unable to participate, Hannibal was far more adept than Clarice at hiding his upset. Instead of revealing his aggravation with the day's events, he answered in a self-deprecating tone, "I would have accompanied you, had I not been expressly requested to remain home with our son, Clarice. When you arrived at the police station, did they have a 'No Cannibals Allowed' sign or was it simply implied."

"Don't be such a wiseass, H. I promised Pearsall if he helped, I'd keep you out of there. He didn't want you delivered to the lead detective with a bow tied around your neck. Clint is convinced they believe you did it and from what we saw today, I think so too."

Hannibal didn't bother asking her to elaborate. Frankly, he really didn't care what the lead investigator thought. If the man wasn't out looking for the killer, better for Hannibal. Then, the man's incompetence wouldn't get in Hannibal's way.

"Of that I have no doubt."

Logan was excited about the prospect of babysitting and tapped his hand on Ardelia's leg, urging her to speak. Ardelia swatted his hand away and pursued, "So…dinner, you two?"

Clarice held the baby close to her body, shifting slightly from Ardelia. Without realizing, she subconsciously shielded the baby from the perceived threat, turning to Hannibal. He was not present in the moment, his eyes unfocused, elsewhere, as was his mind. She could see he was deep in thought, considering something carefully, but she honestly couldn't imagine what it might be.

Still preoccupied with his son's foot, Hannibal spoke quietly, "Dinner sounds like a magnificent idea, Clarice. Al fresco, perhaps."

Surprised he would be willing to leave their son if he'd sensed movement outside the compound, Clarice protested, "But what if someone tries to get into the house?"

Logan jumped to his feet, his arms outstretched in disbelief, "Dude, _seriously?_ If two active FBI agents can't protect one little baby I don't know who the hell can. Not to mention, I'd die before I'd let anything happen to Little Man."

Turning to her husband, Clarice sought confirmation.

H? Are you sure?"

Hannibal nodded to Clarice. His intentions for the evening were becoming quite clear as he outlined each and every move he would make, and the consequences of each choice, within his mind. He began to refocus his plans for the evening with his wife now included, and found he was excited at the prospect of her company in this, though he didn't dare ask in front of her friends. Instead, he began to strategize, arranging in his mind that which he wished to accomplish. That which he wished to uncover…all with Clarice.

"Dinner is a wonderful idea, my Love. We can go somewhere casual. In fact, I have exactly the place in mind."

Ardelia reached for the baby. No longer resisting, Clarice handed her son to her best friend. Logan immediately scooped the baby from Ardelia's arm, lofted him in the air above his head and began making sounds as if the baby was an airplane. Devyni laughed as he was pushed through the air, arching his back to extend his arms and legs. The infant was laughing, obviously loving every single moment of the interaction.

Clarice tipped her head in the direction of Logan, now parading the baby high in the air, buzzing like an airplane, zooming around the home triumphantly.

"You sure? It's not too late to change your mind, H."

Not exactly amused at Logan's antics, but seeing his son was, Hannibal shook his head, "Yes, Clarice. I insist."

* * *

Aside from the fact Hannibal insisted they wear what Clarice considered workout gear, sporting what she was certain Hannibal wouldn't wish to be caught dead in replete with sneakers, Hannibal seemed absolutely excited to be away from the compound. That fact seemed enough out of character, but he had never allowed his son to be left in anyone's care before so the fact that he seemed so eager, she was perplexed and wondered why.

Clarice and Hannibal sat in the open patio of the restaurant at a large table watching several men grilling massive hunks of meat. Clarice watched Hannibal carefully, attempting to get into his head. He was behaving very much out of character in her mind. She was perplexed as to why he insisted on such exceptionally casual clothing, especially for her husband. She couldn't recall seeing him wear this particular outfit, and was more than a little surprised when he presented her with a matching ensemble. It was an unseasonably warm day for early August. Snow was forecast for later that evening, but it was warm and sunny for now.

A waiter approached bringing a tray of sliced meats and sausages, placing them in the center of the table, already set with plates and cutlery. Clarice stabbed at a sausage, sliced it on her plate, popping a piece in her mouth.

As she chewed, she waved the empty fork at Hannibal and pronounced, "So, we left our baby with a man-child who thinks he's an airplane and we're sitting here wearing track suits like a couple of New Jersey mobsters; you sure about this, H?"

"Trust that there is a method to my madness, so to speak, Clarice."

"I just think…isn't this a bit beneath you?"

"I am seeking functionality above fashion this evening, as it were."

Hannibal waved a waiter to the table, speaking in Italian, "Per favore, voglio mia bistecca sanguinosa."

Clarice made out the word for steak and bloody, so he obviously wanted his meat more than a little rare. She waited for the man to leave the table with the order before continuing.

"Tracksuits? I can't believe you suggested this! I mean, you're Mr. Suit and Tie, what's with the workout gear? What's with the dining al fresco?"

Hannibal was very aware of his surroundings, watching as people passing around them. Occasionally, he would turn his head, flare his nostrils and gather the scent, but nothing seemed to attract more than cursory attention. Still, Hannibal seemed hyper-vigilant, and possibly a bit excited, again, unusual behavior for such a cautious and highly self-controlled man. He leaned over the roughly hewn timbers forming the tabletop, explaining his thinking with a twinkle in his eye.

"We are dining al fresco because I would like to see if I believe this individual wants to be found and hoped I might catch the killer's scent in a public place such as this. As to the choice of attire, I thought later this evening, that you might like to _exercise_ with me."

The waiter returned with a slab of meat that looked barely warmed and was definitely bleeding. He placed it in front of Hannibal, obviously recognizing him from the way he set down the plate and quickly stepped back as if Hannibal would either bite off his hand, or ask him to remove the entrée.

Hannibal sliced the piece of beef and as the blood seeped from the flesh, Hannibal, feeling particularly carnivorous, smiled.

"Perfetto, Signore. Grazie, mille grazie."

The waiter bowed, relieved at the approval, but equally relieved to be leaving the table.

Clarice waited for him to be out of earshot, then tapped on the table, redirecting her husband's attention. The moment he looked up, she drilled, "_Exercise? _What's going on? What are you thinking?"

Hannibal sliced a morsel of the beef, and paused before bringing it to his lips.

"The scent of the vehicle is quite distinct, though I doubt the perpetrator would drive it about openly, as it would be recognizable to the police department based on the video taped evidence. I believe the individuals to be locals therefore it is in the realm of possibility that in our travels, we might come across said vehicle. If not the vehicle, perhaps the man himself."

Pleased with his evaluation, playfully tore the steak from the fork, chewing aggressively.

No longer interested in her food, Clarice pushed her plate aside.

"Why are you assuming they're local? Some killers have been known to travel hundreds of miles to dispose of a body."

Hannibal continued to eat as he explained his reasoning, "That body part was not disposed of, Clarice. That head was a request for intervention. It was a religious offering and though it is common knowledge that we live in this area, our exact location is not _public_ knowledge beyond the confines of this community. For someone to visit our compound, upon seeing the level of security and thus knowing their activities would be recorded they would have to be confident of their escape and very familiar with the area. Our property is fairly remote. Few would know how to access it. Fewer would have the confidence to access it and guarantee their safety upon escape."

"You think you can locate the truck by scent?"

"Yes, as I said the aroma of the engine and exhaust are quite specific, but if I cannot locate the truck, I may be able to isolate the scent of the owner. I believe this person wishes to be found."

Hannibal sliced some of his steak and placed in on Clarice's plate. Curious, she stabbed the beef with her fork and questioned, "Why would you believe that?"

"The cologne he has chosen. It is very distinct and not something most men in this area have the purchasing power to obtain."

Enjoying the meat, she chewed actively as she asked, "What cologne?"

Lifting a bowl filled with sautéed baby Portobello mushrooms and onions, scooping a heap beside the steak he had previously plated for Clarice, he answered, "I detected the scent of Clive Christian No.1."

Now enjoying the mushrooms, Clarice continued as she covered her mouth, now filled with food, "Is it hard to find?"

Now satisfied that Clarice had enough protein on her plate, Hannibal attended his dinner. The pair spoke casually as they enjoyed their meal as the sun set and the stars rode low in the sky.

"Not as such, though it is extremely expensive at just over two thousand dollars per bottle. This is a person of means, sub-standard transportation aside."

"Why would a guy who can buy a bottle of two thousand dollar bottle of cologne drive a shitbox truck like that?"

Hannibal paused as he highlighted, "Indeed. Why would he, Clarice?"

Realization dawning, Clarice pounded the table, causing the plates, and cutlery to jump at the contact.

"Sonofabitch! Because that's not his damned truck, is it."

Smiling as his wife's interest piqued, Hannibal answered.

"I suspect the vehicle belonged to the ranch hand our killer decapitated."

Having followed his previous thought processes with ease, Clarice stopped eating for a moment as she challenged, "How do you know the dead guy was a ranch hand?"

Thrilled to have her undivided attention, Hannibal illustrated, "He had the distinct scent of sheep and a faint note of manure on his flesh. The deceased wouldn't have been the rancher as unless he has a phobia about dentists."

She was interested. Hannibal's assessments often jumped light years ahead of investigations, not only because of his unusual mind, but also because he constantly processed a variety of stimuli that most people aren't able to access.

"Okay, H…the sheep I get, but what's the dentist have to do with all this."

Hannibal smiled, entertained by his wife's escalating curiosity.

_I have your attention, yes, but will you be curious enough to join me, I wonder?_

"Tooth decay and periodontal disease have very distinct aromas, all present with the scent of fleece and the stench of decay. I would assume the rancher to have the fiscal means to address that painful a problem. A hired hand would not have the same monetary resources. That might mean any dental identification would be problematic as this individual most assuredly did not make frequent visits for oral care."

Clarice stopped eating and stared at her husband with a combination of shock and awe.

"You could smell all that from the freaking head, You're kidding me, right?"

Guiding her to the question he wished to ask, he outlined, "Not at all, why, does that surprise you? It isn't any different from being able to detect notes floral notes or spicy undertones in a wine's bouquet. You've become quite adept. You have an exceptional palate."

"I know, no offense because you know how much I love you, but it still freaks me out a bit, H. I'm not gonna lie to you."

Hannibal set down his knife and fork, reached across the table and took both his wife's hands in his.

"I understand, Clarice, no offense taken. That is part of the reason for our outing tonight, however."

"What is, H?"

Hannibal squeezed her hands and winked playfully.

"Care to do a little hunting with me, Clarice?"

_**Until the next chapter my friends!**_

_**LH**_


	14. Chapter 14

**EYES ON THE ROAD**

"Hunt? What aren't you telling me, H?"

Hannibal began slowly turning his head, flaring his nostrils to gather in the scent. He moved almost imperceptibly, barely disrupting the air around his face, casually lifting his chin as he sought to isolate the direction of the source. When he was certain he'd gathered all the information needed, he shifted his attention once more to Clarice, unusually animated as he offered, "What I am telling you is that, if you are amenable, I'd like to take you on a bit of a hunting expedition. Well, that is not entirely accurate as it is not so much a hunt, not yet anyway, more a fact gathering mission. If you are not up to the challenge or find the prospect either boring or distasteful, I shall proceed and meet you at home later this evening."

Clarice remained very still, careful to keep her voice low though she couldn't avoid the trepidation seeping in.

"Is he _here_, H?"

Hannibal nodded, unfazed by the situation as he continued eating his steak. Slicing the next segment, he enjoyed the aromas of the blood seeping from the beef. Pausing, lifting the utensil to consider the next bite, he turned the fork as he reflected on what the offender might taste like. He doubted the man was young, based on the body movements he remembered from the surveillance tapes.

_Mutton? Yes…most likely mutton; not the most tender of meats to be sure. I would need to marinate the flesh, if Clarice would allow…great care would have to be taken. Still…it is a good plan, foolproof, really._

"Yes, Clarice. He is here. Would you like to go home without me or will you be joining me this evening? There is no danger, I assure you or I would not make the offer. We will not approach the man; I cannot guarantee he will not attempt to make contact, though I believe it is still far too early for that to be a concern. At this stage there is no danger."

"At this stage there is no danger? What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Speaking as if the topic was of no more concern than a discussion of the weather, Hannibal continued dispassionately, more concerned with his steak than the perpetrator of any crime.

"If you were seeking assistance, would you injure the individual you were beseeching?"

"No, I guess not. Well, if you're sure there's no danger, I'm in."

_Hannibal Lecter on the hunt? This I've got to see._

Having finished his meal, Hannibal stood and smoothed his hands over his chest, breathing deeply. As evening approached, the warmth of the day began to give way to the brisk evenings of winter in Argentina. Invigorated, Hannibal extended his hand.

"Shall we enjoy the local sites, my Love?"

Clarice took his hand, stood from the table and curtsied as if standing in front of nobility, which in point of fact, she was.

_Count Hannibal Lecter the Eighth…That makes me the Countess Lecter…Priceless!_

That thought made her smile.

"Certainly, kind sir."

The pair began to stroll among the vendors keeping along the edge of the walk with Hannibal closest to the street, very casually turning his head from side to side, using his sense of smell to guide them along the route. They walked for a time, perhaps covering a half-mile stretch, until coming to a lovely little Catholic church. Hannibal stood very still.

"_H?"_

"Very near, my Love. Would you like to accompany me inside?"

"Sure, H…I'd love to."

The loving couple were, as was their custom, holding hands as they walked, Hannibal signaling for his wife to stay close by tightly pressing their joined hands against his thigh as they entered the church. Hannibal paused for an instant, just a stutter to his step, but enough that Clarice understood the person to be close. Her husband proceeded with her in tow directly to the area where large rows of votive candles burned brightly.

"I should like to light a candle for my mother, if you have no objections, Clarice. It would have meant quite a lot to her to be remembered in that way."

Releasing her husband's hand, Clarice stepped respectfully aside.

"Okay, H."

As he approached the rows of candles, Hannibal reached for his billfold removed several bills, folded them neatly and placed them in the offering box. He then lit a single candle, made the sign of the cross and lowered his head as he approached the padded bench. Kneeling, his hands folded in front of his body, Hannibal prayed.

Her husband appeared so serene in his devotion that Clarice found herself mesmerized by this experience. Hannibal was so complex, such an absolute contradiction, that she was constantly surprised. Was it a belief in God, or in Heaven that drove his devotion, or the remembered love of a mother whose loss was felt so deeply even to this day? She thought, perhaps, that it might be some complex combination of each, though his mother's love was most likely the primary focus of his piety. Clarice found herself hoping that her son would feel as deep a love for her as she saw in her husband's devotion to his long dead mother now.

Hannibal's head, though still bowed, angled slightly and rotated at an unnatural angle as he considered a man sitting in a pew to his left. Standing, his back straight, posture impeccable as he stepped back from the kneeler, Hannibal turned. His eyes meeting with Clarice, he glanced at the man and back to his wife, his signal to her that he had indeed identified the perpetrator.

Clarice turned her head, to see the man Hannibal was identifying. He was an older gentleman of medium height and build, appearing devout as he prayed, silently turning his rosary beads as he mouthed his novena. He definitely had the appearance of a wealthy rancher, wearing what Clarice believed to be a buckskin coat with what appeared to be fringe hanging the full length of both arms. A Stetson sat on the pew beside him.

Hannibal reached for his wife's hand. Clasping his, she nodded her intent to follow his lead. Walking to the pews, Hannibal chose a seat on the same side of the church seven or eight rows behind the gentleman in question. Stepping back and guiding her body with his left hand, settled at the curve on the small of her back. Hannibal gently supported her right elbow with his right hand, allowing Clarice to enter the row first. Waiting for her to take her seat, he then genuflected, prior to entering the pew and took his seat beside his wife.

Realizing by Hannibal's observance of Catholic traditions that he was well versed in the expected the behaviors of his religion, she believed it best to do as little as possible. He obviously understood the rituals required and if there were something she needed to do, he would direct her. Otherwise, she believed it best to sit respectfully and allow him time to do whatever he felt was necessary.

_I'm okay…plenty of people are sitting. If I kneel, and I might do something wrong, then I'll really stand out. If he wants me to do something, he'll find a way to let me know. Better I just follow his lead…_

Clarice looked around, assessing whether or not the man was alone. Hannibal lowered the hinged bench at his feet and took to his knees once more. Clarice, not really understanding the ritual, remained seated realizing either way she wouldn't stand out.

She wondered whether Hannibal was praying or not. His hands were pressed together as if praying, his thumbs resting on his lips, his index fingers touched to his forehead but unlike before, in front of the candles, his eyes were open. She realized he was more likely watching from behind his devoutly poised hands.

Suddenly, the man they'd been watching stood, genuflected and turned, walking down the center aisle toward Hannibal and Clarice. Clarice watched Hannibal, noticing the slight shift in her husband's sightline. He was following the man in his periphery, and, as the man passed he craned his neck making it was obvious he was hoping to make eye contact with Hannibal, but Clarice realized, Hannibal's eyes were now closed.

Clarice waited for a few moments before leaning to her husband, she grasped his shoulder, shook gently and whispered, "Okay, he's gone, H. Let's go. _He's getting away_."

Hannibal's eyes remained closed, his voice soft, unstressed, he whispered in return,

"Why are you stressed so? There is no hurry, Clarice."

They waited in the pew for what seemed, to Clarice, to be far too long. She reached for Hannibal and smoothed a hand across his back, a sign of her anxiety. Though he understood his wife was growing more uncomfortable as each moment passed, Hannibal waited another two or three minutes before crossing himself, standing from the kneeler and stepping out into the aisle. Guiding Clarice to follow, he once more genuflected, took his wife's hand, and led her to the exit.

When they reached the exterior, Hannibal immediately turned right and moved through the crowds of tourists, their garb showing they were obviously in the area to take advantage of the August skiing.

Breathing in the brisk evening air, Hannibal stretched his arms, pounding his hands on his chest, inhaling deeply. He was relaxed as he dropped his arm around his wife's shoulder, pulling her close.

"Shall we return to the car, Clarice?"

Apparently Hannibal believed the question to be rhetorical because without waiting for an answer, he took her by the hand and began escorting her to their car.

Walking along at the relaxed pace her husband set, she questioned, "What? The car? Why? We don't even know what direction the man went when he left the church."

"It doesn't matter the direction he took when he left, I now know where he lives. We have a brief drive ahead of us. The distance is too far to traverse on foot if we intend to get back before you need to feed Hannibal."

Their arms were swinging casually between them as if they had all the time in the world. Hannibal was obviously not at all stressed. He had a plan, but was not sharing it as freely as Clarice would have liked.

"There's pumped milk in the fridge for emergencies if we get hung up, but he hasn't been fed from by anyone else yet, so I'd rather get back. Where are we going?"

"We will be traveling approximately 16 kilometers."

"How the hell do you know we have to travel 16 kilometers, H? We saw this guy for like five minutes and you know exactly where to find him?"

Hannibal smiled. He was enjoying keeping his wife in the dark, watching the wheels turning in her mind as she processed what he might have seen that she obviously had not. Taking great pleasure in having the upper hand, Hannibal milked it for all it was worth.

"Yes. It was really quite obvious, Clarice, I'm actually surprised you missed it. Perhaps your time away from the FBI has dulled your perception slightly. Fraternizing with Logan during your last months of service seems to have softened your investigative edge, _Dude_."

"_Dude_, don't push you push your luck! _Logan_, _my ass!"_

Hannibal stared ahead, and though his voice was extremely calm, there was a jealous edge to the good-humored reply.

"If I thought there was any reason to place your ass and Logan in the same sentence, I can assure you, he would not be long for this world."

Clarice didn't take note of the tinge of jealousy. She wasn't offended by his possessiveness she was complimented by it. In fact, she felt the same way about him, so she laughed it off.

"Okay, Logan touches my ass, he's a dead man. Got it."

Clarice stopped walking and tugged Hannibal's arm, bringing him to a halt as curiosity got the best of her. She guided Hannibal off the sidewalk and away from the bustle of the crowd.

"Okay, all screwing around aside, I'm not taking another step until you explain what the hell _you_ saw that_ I_ didn't."

Now that they were away from the crowds, next to a building and shielded from the pedestrians Hannibal took a step into Clarice, pressing his body against hers as he ran his hands up and down her arms, ignoring her frustration as he tended to his own.

"It's getting chilly, my Love. Are you certain you are warm enough? It may snow overnight."

Frustrated, she smacked his hand away.

"You're incorrigible! You're acting like you're in no hurry at all…like he gave you his damned address or something."

Hannibal leaned in, kissed his wife and winked, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he whispered flirtatiously, "He _did_ give me his address, Clarice."

"What the hell are you talking about, H?"

Hannibal turned his wife with a hand on the small of her back and spoke quietly as he guided her from behind the building and proceeded to the car, now within eyesight.

"We decided together that we are seeking a rancher, yes? Sheep, not cattle."

Watching Hannibal's ruby red eyes sparkling with anticipation, Clarice nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, a rancher, definitely a rancher."

Hannibal reached for her hand. Clarice gripped his thumb, holding it, casually swinging their now joined hands as they walked.

"Though there are a variety of ranches in the area that fit the description, the ranch we are now interested in raises both alpaca _and _sheep."

Matching her husband stride for stride, Clarice was now focused on Hannibal's processing. What had he seen? She concentrated on the warmth of her hand holding his. His senses were so highly developed, still, he had only been in the man's presence a few minutes. What had she missed?

His silence designed to both allow Clarice time to process the situation and tease her slightly, Hannibal raised their joined hands and kissed her knuckles before allowing them to swing freely once more. He didn't elaborate, allowing her frustration to bloom.

Her eyebrows knitted together illustrating her frustration, Clarice pursued, "Don't tell me you could smell alpaca on the man as he walked past?"

"No, not on the man's body specifically, but his boots carried the distinct scent of alpaca dung, and though I did note the fleece on the arms of his alpaca jacket, the body of the jacket was made of alpaca as well. The man is the rancher we seek. Not to mention, he surveyed me quite closely as he passed."

"Alpaca? Fleece? I didn't see any fleece. His arms had long fringe hanging from it. Wasn't that a buckskin coat?"

"That was not fringe, Clarice. That was the long corded fleece of the Suri alpaca. The hide of the coat, likely the same."

"Okay, so he has Suri alpaca fleece hanging from his arms. How the hell does that tell you where we're going. I've driven around here too, H. There are a ton of places that raise alpaca."

"Not only alpaca, Clarice, _Suri_ alpaca, a very rare breed. The majority of alpaca owners breed Huacaya alpaca. They have a fluffier appearance."

The pair now reaching the car, Clarice waited for Hannibal to open the passenger side door, her eyes focused off as she considered what alpaca she had seen most in the area.

"Huacaya? Those are the ones that look like poof-balls?"

"Yes, for lack of a better description, and as such, not the breed we seek. While there are many such ranches, the individual we are pursuing breeds a very specific alpaca. The Suri alpaca is covered with the same long corded fleece you believed to be fringe. There is only one such ranch in this area, and as I stated earlier, it is approximately sixteen kilometers from here."

Hannibal held the door for Clarice, waited for his wife to enter and secure her seatbelt. Confident that she was comfortable, he closed her door, moved quickly to his side and slipped behind the wheel.

The moment her husband turned over the engine and began to drive, Clarice continued, still incredulous.

_He noticed the freaking llama fur hanging from the guy's arms. Jesus…how the hell does he do that? _

"So, we're gonna drive straight up to his house and…what? Knock on his door?"

Imagining the impertinence needed to approach the door and believing his wife might just have the courage to pull it off Hannibal laughed.

"Though I am certain as an ex-special agent a direct interview would be your first thought, no, of course not. We are going to drive fourteen or fifteen kilometers and run the rest of the way. I told you we are going hunting, Clarice. We need stealth. The Bentley is hardly appropriate."

"Hey, you're the bloodhound, H. I'll just follow your lead."

Hannibal was silent a large part of the ride. Seeking a distraction, he began considering the differences between classical and quantum statistics, running several permutations as he debated the implications of symmetry and its manifestation in quantum formalism.

Clarice, seeing he was deep in thought, was curious.

"What are you thinking about, H?"

Knowing she wouldn't understand a word of it, Hannibal brushed off her curiosity, not wanting to demean her intelligence.

"Nothing of any interest."

"How about you let me decide that."

"Very well, I am considering the notion that permutation symmetry, though present in both, is probably not sufficient to fully explain all of the differences between classical and quantum statistics. There are additional considerations, and as such, it is most likely not directly related to particle identity or more specifically, any lack thereof."

Staring ahead at her husband, amazed at the level he was able to process and still look almost bored, she teased, "Oh, H…I love it when you talk dirty."

"Trust me when I say, no matter what I am thinking, I am always thinking of you."

He reached across the seat running his hand over Clarice's knee, gliding it along the inside of his wife's leg, reaching still higher until she finally moved his hand away.

"Hey, eyes on the road, H, not between my legs!"

"My eyes are on the road, Clarice, it is my hand that is between your legs. A poor substitute, I realize, but as I'm driving, the logistics of my current position make contact with anything but my hand impossible, much as that pains me."

"Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H."

"Heaven forbid, Clarice."

Turning the wheel, Hannibal parked in a remote location, the Bentley now hidden behind a cluster of low-lying conifers. "We've arrived at our destination. Are you ready for a short jog?"

"Yeah, I'd love a little exercise."

Hannibal escorted Clarice from the vehicle. As he closed the door he gathered her in his arms, walking toward her as he drew her in, backing her against the passenger door. Pressing his body against hers, he began to kiss her passionately. At first, she thought to push him back, but his mouth was insistent and if she was being honest, the whole situation was pretty exciting.

When his lips left hers, he sought the soft flesh at her throat, biting, mouthing at her skin until he was certain she was well marked. His hips drove forward pressing against hers, his aroused state evident as he shifted to touch her. The moment she felt his hands slipping over her hips within the elastic waistband of the tracksuit, she gripped his wrists, staying his movement.

"H…I need you to focus, H…We've got to get moving. The baby will need to eat in a couple of hours."

Grudgingly breaking the contact, Hannibal lowered his head to her shoulder.

"Very well, Clarice. I have several things I am looking for, aside from confirming the man's presence at the ranch. The moment I've assessed the circumstances, we will take our leave, yes?"

"Whatever you say, H."

Slapping his bottom, Clarice announced, "Get a move on, H. We don't have all day."

"I will get you home soon, Clarice…and rest assured, once our son is tended, I shall provide you with additional exercise."

"Whatever you say, stud! Let's go."

Hannibal and Clarice jogged side by side, skirting the edge of the property as they headed toward the main house. Careful to stay off the gravel so as not to create suspicious sounds as their footfalls pounded the ground, Hannibal moved swiftly, keeping his wife close to assure her footing.

Hannibal directed Clarice to surveil the home from the tree line believing it to be the area most secured and least likely to present surprises. She had seen the rancher and could identify him easily. Her presence would also provide Hannibal with another set of eyes as he approached the home.

Clarice evaded the light glowing from the windows and sought the desired higher ground. She turned around, assessing the trees for a high point that would be easily accessible, provide cover, and afford a view of the inside of the home. She found a suitable conifer, one with ladder-like branches, and scrambled up the limbs, careful to use the tree's natural cover to shield her presence.

Waving from her perch, she signaled to Hannibal that it was safe for him to proceed, and as such, he would be able to move freely without worry. Watching with awe as Hannibal stalked toward the home, Clarice was amazed at how fluid his movements were. He was exceptionally fast, probably due to his trust of his own senses. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing his decisions, he simply moved _where_ he wanted, _when_ he wanted.

_Okay, H…don't tempt fate. Not too close, please. You'll give me a heart attack._

As if hearing her thoughts, Hannibal turned toward his wife waved and smiled, just before ignoring her telepathic concerns, leaping over the rail of the wrap-around porch, ducking low behind the swing to peer into the window.

Not seeing the rancher, Hannibal moved off the porch and looked again to Clarice.

Seeing movement in a window at the back of the house, Clarice directed Hannibal to check out that location. As Hannibal moved to the designated window, Clarice watched with a smile until suddenly, she saw Hannibal drop to a crouch. Panicked, she strained to see the problem, unable to define the threat.

Suddenly she heard gravel, shifting and crunching under tires followed by the relentless pinging of the small stones pelting the bottom of a vehicle. Headlights coming over the rise in the drive, a large truck came down the path. Hannibal had perceived the approach long before it became obvious to Clarice.

Panic flooded her thoughts as the adrenalin coursed through her system. The murderer was home, he was headed right toward Hannibal and there was nothing Clarice could do to help.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	15. Chapter 15

**BRAVE CLARICE**

The truck's headlights moved to the end of the driveway directly where Hannibal dropped to the ground.

Clarice, realizing the man she loved might be trapped, anxiety overpowering her reasoning, put her own personal safety aside and scampered down the tree as quickly as possible. The progress too slow, she decided to forego the last several branches to save time. To reach Hannibal before he reached for the harpy, she would need to jump.

Gripping a limb five feet below the one that had been her perch, she lowered her body much like the full extension at the end of a chin-up. Hanging for a moment to slow her swing, she released her hold on the rough limb and dropped the eight or nine feet to the ground. Landing softly and rapidly taking to all fours, Clarice stayed low as she scuttled across the ground, initially careful to avoid the gravel so as not to warn the rancher. Searching the immediate area quickly for anything she might use as a weapon, she discovered a fallen tree limb the approximate size of a baseball bat. Grasping it, crouching low, she began to make her way down the drive toward the rancher, now exiting his truck and walking toward Hannibal.

_Okay, H…stay low and just keep the harpy in your sleeve long enough for me to get the bastard off your back…_

As the rancher moved closer to Hannibal's location, Clarice took to the loosely pebbled driveway stepping cautiously as she stalked the man. Walking sideways, one foot very carefully being placed beside the other, she was very careful not to displace the crushed rock bed making up the driveway as she approached from behind.

Before she could travel half the distance to the truck, she heard an almost imperceptible shift of gravel directly beside her.

_What the hell..._

In an instant, not even allowing her the chance to react, Clarice was grabbed from behind, a relentless hand clamping over her mouth, strong arms encircling her. The abductor silently lifted her from the stony driveway, very suddenly stopping her movement toward the rancher as his body pressed against her back, holding her close.

_Was there someone on the grounds? Someone near the barn I didn't see? It's a huge ranch...there would be workers..._

Clarice reached with her free hand, attempting to face her assailant. Twisting and turning within the man's grasp, desperately wanting to find a way to escape quickly and reach Hannibal, she clawed over her back in a vain attempt to disrupt the aggressor. Thrashing as the man arched his back, carefully keeping her feet from the ground to silence the shifting gravel, the attacker carried her into the darkness.

Being dragged away from the direction she was so desperate to reach, Clarice launched an elbow hoping the blow might loosen his grip. Sensing the movement, the attacker quickly tucked his chin and buried his face along her neck to shield himself from the onslaught of her attack, the merciless blow skipping harmlessly off his shoulder.

Worried that her husband might be killing the rancher or worse, might be discovered, Clarice momentarily abandoned the attack, straining her eyes in the low light desperate to see what was happening to Hannibal, but to no avail.

Her abductor moved swiftly, quickly reaching the sandy area bordering the gravel setting her down behind the large tree she had just descended. At no time did he loosen his grip, tightening it instead as she gained her footing, pinning her face-first against the conifer.

Clarice flinched, attempting to bite the hand still cupped tightly over her mouth. Apparently retaliating for the persistence of her attacks, the man forced her body against the trunk of the tree, torqued her neck and clamped his mouth aggressively over her throat, biting firmly, sucking hard at the flesh. As Clarice struggled, suddenly, the bite turned to soft kisses, the tongue gently probing her pulse point, stroking the surface of her skin.

_What? No, it can't be…how?_

The low satisfied growl now rumbling against her throat gave him away, as Hannibal hissed his approval in her ear.

"_Clariiice..._still my protector...still my warrior."

Her back still to him, Hannibal's playful dungeon hiss in her ear was unmistakable, Clarice was incredulous as the insistent hand previously silencing her, moved from her mouth to her abdomen, teasing at the waistband of her jogging pants. He pressed his hand just beneath the elastic, slipping his fingertips beneath the flexible band of the tracksuit, reaching for her undergarment.

_When? How?_

Clarice whispered, _"H?"_

His mouth at her ear, he hushed, "Shhh, though I believe the rancher has entered the home, it would be prudent to be still. We don't want company; we have yet to check the barn and that is most important."

_Most important? What's the big deal about the barn? I can tell you what's in the barn, a bunch of smelly sheep and llama._

Excited by the hunt, Hannibal continued to search her body, now tugging against the stretchy band of her undergarment, slowly teasing his hands within. Clarice arched her back against his aroused body, her heart pounding as the adrenalin pulsed through her system. Hannibal's heartbeat, in contrast to hers, thumped slowly against her back as his mouth searched her neck and throat all the while his fingers reached lower still, teasing at the soft curls as he whispered salacious intentions in her ear.

Relieved he was safe and realizing her husband had no intention of shifting his focus from her body, Clarice gripped his hand just as his fingers began to stroke within.

"No, not now, H...not here."

"There are no cameras. No one is near."

Pushing her body backward, forcing him to step away, she slid his hands to her hips, smoothly turning within his embrace.

Wrapping her arms around her husband, Clarice whispered against his ear, sighing her relief, even as he groaned his own disappointment.

"You scared me half to death. _How the hell did you do that, H?_ I thought for sure he'd find you."

Touched by her concern, but flooded with torrents of adrenalin and no means to vent it, still wanting to press his romantic intentions, Hannibal sought her lips. Kissing her aggressively he claimed her mouth, steam puffing from his nostrils as the warmth of his breath met the cold night air, snow now beginning to fall. Alone with his wife on the hunt in the dark, Hannibal was feeling a bit primal and sought to physically express his want.

Again, Clarice pulled back and rebuffed his advances.

"_Come on, H_…there's a time and a place. It's starting to snow, for Christ's sake. Now, how the hell did you get past that rancher?"

Realizing she would give no ground, he growled his displeasure and surrendered to her wishes.

"I simply watched his movements and changed my position based on his chosen path. You're forgetting, I have the advantage of seeing very clearly in low light, and could perceive quite plainly where the gentleman was looking. I made certain to move in the direction he was not attending. I can be quite silent when the need arises."

Hannibal ran his hand down his wife's arm. When his fingertips fell upon the tree limb she still gripped tightly, he smiled.

_Brave Clarice, my cub has become my lioness…_

"Is that a weapon, my Love?" he asked as he gripped the branch, tugging it gently from her hand to relieve her of it.

Snuggling against him, Clarice nodded, "No one will take you from me if I can help it, H."

Turning his face to nuzzle against hers Hannibal whispered, his lips brushing her ear as he quieted, "Mightn't it have been easier to toss a rock or rustle a branch or two to distract the man? You needn't have attempted to bash him over the head."

Kissing his neck she whispered in return. "I considered that, but I thought he was too close to you, so I was looking for something a bit more…immediate."

His heart beating slowly, he slipped his hands lower, settling on her hips his thumbs stroking her iliac crests as he shifted his pelvis against her body, urging flirtatiously, "A bit more _permanent_, you mean?"

Clarice slipped her hands to his hips as well, pulling her body tightly against his, whispering as she placed her cheek to his, her lips just brushing his ear as she promised, "I would've killed him before I let him catch you, H."

"Oh, how I love it when _you_ talk dirty, my Love." Lowering his head to her shoulder, he agreed, "Yes, my brave Clarice, I believe you would have."

Hannibal wrapped his arms tighter around his wife, rocking against her body as he continued, "Conceding to your concerns, I shall stay my want, but trust me when I say, when we have concluded here I will find a much more tangible way to thank you for your protection, Clarice."

Craning her neck to find his lips she kissed him briefly and responded, "I'll hold you to that, H. Now what else do you want to see? We're getting close to the time the baby needs to feed, snowfall aside."

Seeing they were back to the business of the evening, Hannibal released his wife with a sigh. Taking her by the hand, the pair began the short walk to the barn.

"I am looking for several pieces of equipment, Clarice. I should like to see what I might have to work with should I need to find something a bit more permanent as well in the future. I believe I know where this will go, and if so, I'll need to familiarize myself with the barn."

Clarice watched with admiration as Hannibal strode with purpose to his intended destination. She loved to see him like this, hunting for information, formulating his plan. She had no idea how dubious the intention might be.

"Why do you need to be familiar with their barn?"

Not breaking the rhythm of his stride, as if discussing nothing more important that the events of the day, he answered straightforwardly, "Because that is where they will bring me when they abduct me."

Aghast, Clarice grabbed Hannibal by the elbow, dragged him to a stop and turned him toward her.

"What the _fuck_ did you just say?"

Hannibal's response was factual, unemotional as he outlined, "If this person believes me to be an incarnation of San la Muerta, the initial contact will be offerings- the first of which we've seen, the offerings will turn to demands, then, finally, when the request, assuming I receive one, is not met, the demand will be followed by an abduction."

Facing him, seeing no sign of concern in his eyes, still, Clarice worried, "Why? What sense does that make?"

Hannibal reached for her chin with his thumb and forefinger attempting to steady her gaze. He placed a quick kiss on her lips, and smiled, hoping to remove her worry with his own confidence as he explained, "It is traditional for the petitioner to sequester the deity in order to have the intention filled. It is not necessarily an expression of aggression or a threat of physical harm, it is simply the method by which the final demand is met."

Clarice gripped Hannibal's shoulders, obviously upset.

"How long have you known this, H?"

Hannibal turned from her grip, placed a hand on her back, and guided her to continue walking toward the barn, explaining the situation as they walked.

"I've known about it from the beginning, Clarice. That is why I asked you to accompany me. If I am indeed, abducted, you will know exactly where they will bring me. Now, if you'll set your worry aside and allow me to complete this task, I really must have a look at the equipment. Though I doubt it will come to it, you'll need to learn the layout of the area in the event you'll need to release me."

"Why are you so flippant? This isn't funny, _Hannibal_."

Accustomed to the use of his Christian name whenever Clarice was upset, he challenged good humoredly, "So, now it is _Hannibal?_ Not, H?"

Facing off with her husband, toe to toe in the snow, Clarice asserted, "No, not H. I'm really angry! You're preparing...letting this happen, when you know you can stop this!"

Unaffected by her anger, Hannibal brushed an errant lock of snow streaked hair from her brow, answering rationally, "Yes, I can stop it right now. I can enter his home and I can kill him now, but I doubt that's what you are implying."

Poking a finger to his chest, she proclaimed boldly, "No, you can report him."

Still unaffected by her ire, Hannibal quickly snatched the finger and brought it to his mouth. Baring his teeth, he surged forward as if to bite the digit, instead pulling back and placing a kiss on the tip of her finger. He then released her, brushing the back of his hand along the side of her face.

"Report him to the police? To whom? That lovely lead investigator? The offensive man to whom I owe a private visit as well? And tell him what? Everything I know is based on my own senses, not that which can be proven and as such, it is circumstantial at best. No, I must proceed as planned. If that means you are angry with me, so be it."

Placing her hands on his chest, smoothing them across the breadth of his body, Clarice corrected, "It's not that I'm angry with you. I'm afraid _for_ you."

Placing a hand on her back, Hannibal again turned her toward his appointed destination, guiding her in the darkness toward the barn and adjoining outbuildings as he consoled, "There is no need for undue concern, my Love. I have the superior position as I know his plan, his location and his identity. I intend to maintain that advantage."

"I'm still going to worry."

"Of that I am certain, Clarice."

Emotional, all Clarice could do to respond was squeeze her husband's hand.

Continuing on an overgrown path the couple reached the side door of the barn to find it secured with a simple padlock. Within moments, Hannibal opened the lock and as they stepped in, moved ahead of Clarice in the event there was danger. There were several stalls, each holding horses. Another door led to a large pen where sheep were housed. On the other side of the barn was a row of four large paddocks where the animals were divided by pregnant females, young females, young males and older males. The paddocks led by individual corral to a twelve by forty-eight foot loafing shed, divided equally in front of each paddock, separately housing approximately forty alpaca.

Moving away from the location where the animals were housed, Hannibal proceeded to an area containing two massive sheds. One housed large farm equipment, the most important to Hannibal being the John Deere tractor, baler and hayrack. The other shed was mysteriously empty, though there were two large iron rings welded to an iron brace at the back of the shed. The floor, unlike the rest of the barn's flooring coated in either hay or sawdust, was swept perfectly clean.

_This is where they'll keep me…_

Looking around, Hannibal searched for chains or some form a restraint or locking system, that he might prepare himself, but to no avail. If they were intending to keep him here, they were not, as of yet, prepared.

_There is time yet…_

After exploring the remainder of the barn, her eyes straining in the moonlight, approaching the doorway, Clarice surveyed the area.

"Guess if they were going to hold you this would be their best bet, huh, H?"

_H, not Hannibal…I love you as well, Clarice._

"Yes. This would be the area most suited to restraint. If you'll notice, there are two large rings welded to the back wall, ideal for either passing a chain through or cuffing an individual to, secured by a reinforced iron bracket. I believe this area is far enough away from the animals so as not to disturb them, and far enough away from the home not to draw attention."

Unable to mask the concern in her voice, Clarice questioned, "So, when do you think they'll attempt to take you? Soon?"

Busy with the iron rings, assessing the quality of the weld and the bracket attachment, Hannibal declared with confidence, "No. I believe there will be more offerings. Another body part or two, a gift to precede the request, I won't know what I'm dealing with until we receive the actual request for intercession."

Joining Hannibal in the makeshift cell, Clarice stood beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder as she spoke quietly in the darkened space.

"I don't want anyone coming to take you, H."

Sliding his hand around Clarice's waist, Hannibal warned, "Then, if it comes to it, Clarice, I would be forced to take action to avoid that eventuality."

Clarice considered the thought and made a decision quickly, "If this gets much closer to home, H…you can do whatever you have to do to protect yourself. You just keep it from coming back at you, understand?"

Kissing the top of her head, Hannibal probed further, "Yes, my Love. We can discuss that further if the need arises. Might I ask you a question without raising your ire, Clarice?"

Kissing his chest, Clarice agreed, "Sure, H, go ahead."

"If it comes to me taking a life to protect our family, might I have your permission to take something more, shall I say, corporeal?"

Clarice stood, staring at her husband, knowing exactly what he was asking. She thought for a moment. It wasn't as if Hannibal sought the man out. This person was a tangible threat to their lives, to their family. Yes, the rancher was dangerous, but not as dangerous as the man whose life he might threaten.

_I know your Nature and I'm not afraid..._

Clarice cupped Hannibal's face with both her hands, seeking the warmth of his eyes, simmering in the cold winter air, the moonlight catching the crimson through the window. She wanted to see his face as she spoke these words.

"If you have to kill the sonofabitch, you can take whatever you like, H. You just handle your business without making a production of it and whatever you cook, you eat alone, okay_, that night_, nothing hanging out in the fridge or the freezer. That man moves on you, you have my blessing to tear his face off with your teeth if you have to, you just promise to come back to me."

Hannibal settled his hands on his wife's hips, pulling her close. There was no need for words as he kissed her gently

_Brave Clarice…_

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	16. Chapter 16

_**OUT IN THE COLD**_

Hannibal and Clarice reached the Bentley to find it covered in snow. Hannibal was invigorated, Clarice nervous, wanting to get in the car, recover her cell phone and check on the baby. As Hannibal drove, Clarice phoned. The moment Clarice confirmed that, not only had Logan played with the baby for two hours before he put him to bed but that Devyni was sleeping soundly, she tapped at the screen of the phone, relieved.

"Our son?"

"Sound asleep, H. Apparently Logan played with him so long, he wore the little guy out."

"Logan plays in a very physical manner. It's very good for young Hannibal, as my interaction is not quite as aggressive. It is a healthy balance, I think. He is an excellent playmate."

"Playmate…yeah, that's about the level he operates on. Still, at least the baby's doing good."

Without shifting his eyes from the road, Hannibal corrected, "Doing _well_, Clarice."

Wanting to teach him a lesson for constantly revising her conversations, Clarice, knowing Hannibal was still somewhat aroused by the state of his track pants, reached across the console and firmly gripped his manhood through his clothing.

Clarice watched his expression carefully as she grasped, squeezing gently as his body strained against the loose fabric. Though he didn't overtly react, Hannibal inhaled sharply, his eyes rolling for a moment before he was able to exhale slowly, regain his composure and focus on the road ahead.

"Wow, you regroup quickly! I'm impressed!" Laughing quietly, she taunted good-naturedly, "I'll take that as a challenge, H."

"Take what as a challenge, my Love?" he returned with cheer, attempting, however unsuccessfully, to appear unaffected by the contact.

Without another word, Clarice began to stroke his body, alternately, gripping and releasing as she leaned in and whispered scandalously against his ear, "This…"

Hannibal's mouth fell open slightly, his chin dropping to his chest as he released a low, rumbling growl, alerting, "It would be wise not to stir my want, my Love."

Understanding exactly how she was affecting him, she flirted, "Hmmm? I wonder, should I take that as a warning or encouragement, H?"

Flashing a wicked smile, Hannibal countered, "Perhaps it is both. A warning that if you do choose to continue, we are not only very close to the outer edges of our property, but my self-control as well. And, encouragement that if you do choose to continue, I shall pull this car over to the side of the road the very moment we reach the border of our compound and finish what I intended under that pine tree."

Nuzzling her face against his neck, her lips brushing his pulse point, Clarice continued to intimately massage her husband, urging, "Um-hum…well, I'm not stopping, so you do what you have to do."

Breathing ragged, Hannibal's head rolled as he breathed deeply and struggled to both control his response, and safely operate the Bentley. Reaching the outer border of their compound, patience at an end, Hannibal leaned into the door and yanked the wheel so quickly that the vehicle entered a barely controlled skid.

Sliding sideways across the sandy ground, the aggressive motion caused the tires to spin up a huge cloud of dust as Hannibal skidded the car to a halt. His destination: the Northern corner of their property line, where the mountains formed a natural outcropping. Hannibal rightly concluded the stony enclosure would provide an effective shield from prying eyes. Parking the car behind this imposing natural camouflage, the vehicle was now not only on their property, but could not be seen from the road.

The moment the car skidded to a spun-out to a stop, Hannibal dashed from the vehicle, rushed to the rear and opened the trunk, pulling out a large duffle bag.

"What's that, H?" Clarice questioned as Hannibal opened her car door, bag swinging widely at his side as he grabbed her by the hand, tugging her out of the vehicle.

"Emergency supplies, Clarice. There is an identical bag in your vehicle. It is winter and the storms here are quite unpredictable. As you know, I make it a point to be prepared for any and all likelihoods."

Hannibal dropped the bag on the snow-covered ground and forced his wife against the car, kissing her roughly.

Clarice allowed her husband to vent his passion until his wandering hands attempted to divest her of her clothing. She gripped his wrists quickly, stalling his progress. Placing her palms flat on his chest, she pushed him back.

"Out here, in the cold? I don't care how hot and bothered you are that's not happening, H."

Pressing the weight of his body against her and driving his face against her neck, mouthing the flesh as he spoke, Hannibal assured, "Here, but not out in the cold, Clarice."

Releasing his wife and opening the rear passenger door he bent to the duffle, rapidly withdrew a sleeping bag, and snapping the fabric bundle like a bullwhip, quickly unfurled the bedroll. Hannibal then spread the sleeping bag smoothly across the back seat, scooped his wife into his arms, and quickly placed her within the quilted fabric.

Overcome with passion, arms and legs a tangled jumble in the back seat of the Bentley, Hannibal rapidly divested his wife of her sneakers. Clarice made quite the scene, playfully pretending to fight him off as Hannibal tugged her sweatpants, underwear included, down her legs, quickly slipping the garments off her body.

Relaxing, Clarice allowed her legs to part as she rested on the sleeping bag against the back seat. His wife exposed, Hannibal groaned at the sight as he stood in the cold air, snow swirling around his body. Stripping quickly, his arousal was obvious as he tugged the door closed and scrambled across the backseat to join his wife.

Cuddling against her husband to warm him, Clarice teased, "I thought cold air affected men's bodies much differently than that, H."

"Not with inspiration such as yourself, Clarice."

Hannibal reached under his wife's track jacket, opening it to him. Raising her shirt, he opened one of the cups of his wife's bra, strategically designed to allow nursing without removing the garment. Resting alongside the warmth of her body, Hannibal lowered his sleek head to her breast.

Clarice moaned as he drew the peak into his mouth.

Latching firmly, teasing the tightened flesh with his teeth, Hannibal groaned, his enthusiasm apparent as he sealed his body to hers.

Clarice gasped her approval, running her fingers through his hair, enjoying the warmth flooding her body. Realizing Hannibal's ardent attention to her breasts had no bounds, with the baby yet to feed, Clarice reminded, "H, don't forget, Devyni."

Releasing her breast, Hannibal reached between her legs, spreading them much more fully. Tracing his thumb along the joining, he opened her body to him.

Clarice moaned as he teased his fingers very slowly within, mouthing her neck, teasing the bulb of flesh at her ear.

"How can I please you, my Love?"

Clarice sighed lightly in his ear, rolling her hips, encouraging Hannibal to more fully explore.

"That tells me nothing, Clarice…talk to me."

"Touch me, H…just touch me."

"Where? Touch you where?"

"Jesus, H…I don't feel up to walking through this. You know what I want…"

"Yes, of course, but it pleases my to hear it."

Clarice took Hannibal's right hand and gripping his index and ring fingers, gripping them as she had his erection. She then placed his fingers poised, stroking herself with his hand, his fingers barely teasing within.

"H…gently…and…bite me, H…"

"Will that excite you, Clarice? If I attend your delicate flesh in this way, will you let me hear your passion? Will you sing to me? I want to hear your hunger."

Nearly breathless, Clarice agreed, "Yes…yes…"

Hannibal tempted the flesh, stroking upward as Clarice gripped his shoulders, rocking gently against his hand. She moaned softly, whispering her need, the keening aches of want, a hymn of elation as she responded to his touch.

Hannibal's voice was lush, rich with desire as he encouraged, "You are magnificent, Clarice. So adoring, so responsive, so eager for me, you humble me with your love."

She yelped with pleasure as his teeth slowly closed over the peak of her breast, very gently applying the loving pressure she requested.

The sensations slowly building, Clarice whimpered faintly, the depth of Hannibal's devotion apparent as he placed dozens of tender kisses over her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, and her eyes, now tightly closed as her rapture bloomed.

Feeling the shudder as he body tensed, tightening as her body reached its summit, Hannibal encouraged, "You're balanced on the edge, my Love…so slick with want…not long now, yes?"

Her breath caught, her chest burning with the tension of her threatening rapture, she barely released, "Yes…H…soon…soon…"

Returning to her breast, he moaned softly, his teeth scraping lightly over the pebbled crown. "Hmmm, Clarice…you're delicious."

Her nerve endings tingling, breath rough, Clarice kissed Hannibal's forehead, joining, "You…too, H…you…too!"

His fingers stroking, Hannibal encouraged, "You're so near, Clarice, I can feel your swelling passion...all but taste it. Will you give yourself to me, my Love?"

Her hips rolling against the increased pressure and rhythm of his hand, she gasped, "Yes…oh, H…yes…"

Careful not to penetrate, Hannibal continually massaged, creating a pattern, rolling tiny circles at her apex, as he drank at her breast.

Groaning against her breast, Hannibal's body throbbed. His arousal building, he released her breast once more and questioned, his voice deep, raw, "More, Clarice? All?"

"Yes…H…yes…"

Further tempting her patience, Hannibal withdrew his hand and began to suck at his fingers, his cheeks drawn- concave from the suction. He tugged each digit slowly from his tightly pursed lips, extracting every drop of moisture as he praised, "Sweet as honey, Clarice, how I hunger for you."

"H…hurry."

"Soon, my Love…"

Hannibal rested his body atop hers, pressed within, careful not to penetrate.

Feeling the rigid flesh pressed at her center, Clarice began to lift her hips, grinding gently against him. Hannibal's body providing the friction she rocked against, her flesh enflamed from the contact. Moaning softly, she rolled her hips, her excitement building as she urged, "H…please…don't tease me…"

Hannibal moved in rhythm with his wife, all the while whispering in her ear, "So needy, my Love…so soon hungry…for release…not yet…not yet, Clarice."

Reaching for his buttocks, Clarice attempted to shift his hips to press his body within. Hannibal continued the long slow strokes, pressing against her heat, so sensitive, her legs gripping his body, her thighs trembling as she wrestled against the rhythm, attempting to accept his arousal.

Each time it seemed Clarice would climax, Hannibal stopped moving abruptly.

Again, Hannibal shifted his body, Clarice whimpered slightly, signaling her disapproval at his avoidance.

"H…stop playing…with me…please…"

"I'm not playing, Clarice. I am simply enjoying your body and don't wish this to end."

Hannibal lowered his head, nuzzling his face against the peak of her breast, circling the pebbled flesh with his nose.

Clarice slipped her hand between his mouth and her breast.

"Clarice? Are you denying me?"

"Hell, yes! Two can play at this game, H…you deny me and I'll deny you!"

"Ahh…I see."

Hannibal lunged so quickly, penetrating so fluidly, so deeply that his body drove Clarice against the car's seat, gasping for breath. He thrust three long strokes, the length and strength of his body forcing hers more fully open to him. Hannibal's hips crashed against hers with such power, the impact literally took her breath away.

On the final thrust, he remained buried deeply within, driving his hips against hers, pinning her mercilessly to the seat of the car.

Hissing against her ear, Hannibal growled low, probing, "Is that what you desire, Clarice? My forcefulness? Do you ache from within for the full measure of my passion, the heat of my want? Do you want to experience all of my need…do you want more, Clarice?"

Overwhelmed, Clarice exhaled slowly, her body adjusting to his size. She breathed deeply as he filled her, gasping as she struggled to find her voice.

"Yes…more…H…more…"

"My body is yours, Clarice. Do you believe that? Do you know it is for you and only you? Can you feel my need filling you? Do you believe that I am yours, my Love?"

A very slight whimper escaped her lips as she shifted her body, needing to feel all of him.

"Yes…you're mine…you're mine…but I want more, H, don't make me beg …please."

"And you are mine, yes, Clarice? You mind…your body, mine."

Clarice's thighs began to tremble, shaking from want. Hannibal shifted his hips from side to side, teasing at the entrance.

"Yes…yes…"

"If you are mine, as I am yours, move your hand, Clarice. Do not deny me that which is mine and I promise, I'll not deny you that which is yours."

Clarice met his gaze, his maroon eyes shimmering like the surface of the sun, burning her body- heating her center, as her body squeezed, pulsing against his flesh. She moved her hand, exposing her breasts once more to his gaze.

Staring at her body, making no secret of his desire, Hannibal groaned as he dove toward her nipple, capturing it in his mouth, biting the firm peak until she gasped. The moment she cried out, he thrust, causing her body to shudder.

As her rapture threatened, he whispered in her ear, "I can you feel your need, Clarice…can you sense your end? Your body screaming for release, clutching my body, gripping me from within?"

"Yes…fuck…yes…"

"Do you believe I ache for you as well, Clarice…my dearest, my sweet wife, my Love…how much I want to make your cries of passion fill my ears?"

"Yes…I believe…I believe…H…please..."

"My impatient lover, so raw with need…call to me, Clarice…sing to me…"

Hannibal buried his body within, driving his hips with such feverish speed, such a relentless pace, Clarice clutched his shoulders and screamed, "Oh…god…H…H…too much…"

Groaning his need against her ear, Hannibal urged, "You wanted my passion, to feel my need…feel my longing…feel all of me, my Love…feel how much I crave you. I am starved for want of you."

His hips crashed against hers, his body leaning, his hands pinning her hips as he drove within.

The contact dizzying, her mind floated, swimming as he drove his body against hers.

"Too…much, H…too much…oh…H…I can't…"

Relentless, his body driving within, deep, firing at her core, the heat surging suddenly, Hannibal released his hold on her hips, allowing her to meet his body, driving her hips upward.

"Let go…relax…my Love…all for you…only for you…"

Clarice crushed her eyes closed, the building need swelling as her husbands body stroked deeply, again and again. Hannibal felt her body begin to spasm, internally joined.

"Clarice…my…Clarice…"

Biting the peak of her breast, Hannibal felt her body release as she gripped his shoulders and pulled him close.

"Oh…god…H…"

Suddenly, she tensed, trembling her release, shaking in his arms as she surrendered her body to his.

Hannibal groaned, his hips bucked, climaxing as he whispered his love in her ear.

Clutching her thighs, his fingers kneading her flesh, he surrendered his body, shaking violently against hers as the power of his orgasm shook him to his core. He clutched her thighs, his thighs quivering from the strain as he drove his legs forward, burying his body as deeply as possible, allowing his passion to pour from him, filling his wife.

Their bodies pulsed as they basked in the glow of their rapture holding each other, trembling, shaking, as their breathing, ragged, harsh, along with their heartbeats, slowly aligned.

Finally, Hannibal lowered her legs, and dropping to his knees, resting his head on her breast. He suckled quietly for a moment as she stroked his hair.

Suddenly, Hannibal released her breast, his head whipping around, he responded to something as of yet unseen.

Seeing the sudden shift in his demeanor, concern lighting her eyes, she probed, "What H? What's going on?"

Hannibal's eyes glowering in the dark, the reflection of the moon lighting their center, Hannibal hushed, "Shh, Clarice, please…they are near…"

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	17. Chapter 17

**WHATEVER IT TAKES**

Knowing exactly what her husband's reaction would be, Clarice grabbed Hannibal's boxers, clutching them protectively to her chest.

Seeing her resolve, Hannibal tapped his finger lightly on Clarice's fist, the knuckles yellowing at tightness of her grip.

"Excuse me, my Love, I'd like to attend to this situation if I may but I'll need my undergarments to do so."

Turning her shoulder from him, she enforced, "You can't go out there in a blizzard without your boxers, H, so that means you'll have to stay put."

Staring ahead, deadpan in his response, Hannibal offered, "Clarice, if I must go commando I shall, but you should know that would make the pursuit much less comfortable than if I were to have the proper support. Allow me to offer that it might also impact my ability to profess my love, physically, if I were to suffer frostbite in my nether regions."

Refusing to relinquish the garment, Clarice reasoned, "Attend to what situation? Come on, H, you're not insinuating that you're going out there when you know there's a killer a hundred yards down the road and he's probably making another delivery. Are you even sure it's the rancher?"

Turning his wife's shoulder toward him, Hannibal nibbled on her deltoid muscle, dragging his incisor along the flesh as he spoke, "From the sound of the vehicle, yes, our rancher has returned and if there is a delivery to be made it is in my best interest to interrupt the process, is it not?"

Seeing that her husband's intention was indeed to pursue, Clarice probed, "It isn't the best idea to interrupt a killer when he's disposing of body parts. _Seriously_? Are you _crazy?_"

Flashing an expressly wicked grin, Hannibal sat up, responding with a self-deprecating tilt of his head, "It has been argued."

Shoving his shoulder, Clarice continued, "Oh, _really_ funny. Don't be such a wiseass, H. You know what I mean."

Reaching for the only clothing he had access to, Hannibal lifted the sweatpants, track jacket, undershirt and long sleeved lycra jersey, from the pile on his running shoes. Readying to dress, he unfolded his silk undershirt and put in on quickly before his wife could grab hold of it.

"He's got _one_ confirmed kill, Clarice, that is hardly cause for panic."

"He's only got one kill that we know of but it doesn't make sense to offer him a second victim on a silver freaking platter. What the hell is he doing here now? I mean the time elapsed doesn't add up so I doubt he followed us. What do you think?"

Rapidly pulling the long sleeved shirt over his head, Hannibal laced his arms through the sleeves, his voice muffled for a moment as the garment covered his face.

"I concur. He didn't follow us therefore he has no idea we are near. We are perfectly safe but I'd like to survey the situation and catch him in the act, as it were. I believe this is my best chance to determine the man's motivations. Might I have my clothing, Clarice?"

With a huff to voice her displeasure, Clarice handed Hannibal his boxers, shifting her body sideways to allow her husband to dress himself.

"Hannibal Lecter, if you let this man kill you, I swear to god, I'll never speak to you again."

Leaning awkwardly, he stuffed a foot into each leg and, rolling onto his back, lifted his hips. Tugging as he scooted across the seat, Hannibal hitched the garments and adjusted himself as he teased, "Ah, merely my full name? Just a bit irritated are you then? If you'd used my title as well, I would indeed be concerned."

"Never mind that. You just come back to me, H…no matter what. You come back to me."

Twisting his body to face Clarice, Hannibal brushed his lips along her cheek and whispered, "Always, my Love."

Passing his running shoes to her husband, Clarice pursued, "So, you said you're going to determine his motivations? How are you going to do that?"

Jamming his feet into the sneakers, Hannibal tied them quickly, answering, "It isn't a difficult concept, Clarice. I simply intend to ask him."

Clarice helped Hannibal with his track jacket, tugging it over his shoulders as he slipped his arms through the sleeves. Smoothing her hands across his back, she kissed his shoulder. Quiet for a moment, curious why Hannibal would tempt fate with an individual he couldn't determine was safe, Clarice questioned, "I just don't get it. You know where the guy lives. All we have to do is tell the detective. Hell, we don't even have to do it ourselves. I can have Clint make the call so I don't get why the hell you'd intentionally endanger yourself?"

Straightening, Hannibal explained, "Because I don't see a reason to involve the authorities. This individual attempted to contact me using a very specific method. That method tells me that he believes he is in need of my assistance. That there is a body involved does not make the man a threat. When he walked past me at the church, I didn't sense danger from him."

Clarice sat for a moment and considered what her husband just said. The windows of the car were now snow covered, giving the enclosure a quiet, peaceful air; one she did not want her husband to leave. Still, Hannibal seemed so sure. Maybe he knew something she didn't. Needing more information, Clarice probed,"If you didn't sense danger, what did you sense?"

Hannibal's response was unequivocal.

"Fear."

"Of you?"

"Of everything."

* * *

Planting a kiss on his wife's cheek, Hannibal rushed from the car zipping his track jacket as he ran in the direction of the truck, now idling nearby. Dashing at breakneck speed, his feet crunching on the newly fallen snow, he ran for a full minute before he came to the area where the truck was standing. Shielded by a stand of trees, Hannibal remained hidden and watched for a moment.

The older man was in the process of unloading a large barrel very similar to the one that contained the decapitated head. The container was rattling with disembodied limbs as he set it on the snow. He then bent, removing from the barrel several small skeletal figures. The man used small zip ties to carefully affix the handcrafted icons to the elegantly carved wood and wrought iron fence bordering the outer edges of the Lecter compound.

Watching the rancher's movements and sensing no danger from the man, Hannibal stepped out from the shadows into the bright moonlight, snow cascading lightly from the sky. Walking casually from behind the tree, Hannibal spoke clearly, "Might I be of some assistance, Sir? Perhaps you are lost and in need of directions."

The older gentleman's eyes flashed panic, leaving Hannibal to wonder if the man understood English or was simply surprised and as such, frightened by his presence.

The driver of the vehicle swung open the door as if to offer assistance. This movement caused the rancher to turn away from Hannibal. Clearly panicked, the rancher shouted at the driver, his voice cracking obviously overcome with terror, "No! Io voglio tu rimani nel camion!"

The rancher's dread was absolutely palpable. Hannibal wondered why the gentleman would be so panicked that he would turn his back on someone he clearly feared in order to warn the driver to remain in the truck. Hannibal had a thought.

_Someone he wishes to protect is in that vehicle._

Approaching with his hands held outstretched signaling he had no weapon and meant no harm, Hannibal walked forward. His eyes narrowing as he surveyed the truck, Hannibal picked up one of the small skeletons the man had been attaching to the fence. He spoke softly and identified himself as the Angel of Death, offering his help.

"Io sono San la Muerte. Avete bisogno del mio aiuto?"

Relaxing somewhat when Hannibal identified himself as the deity the rancher was entreating, the still anxious man responded, accepting Hannibal's offer.

"San la Muerte! Aiuto, si."

Hannibal pointed to the older woman in the truck and questioned, "Tua moglie?"

This question caused a spike in the rancher's apprehension, but he conceded, "Mia moglie, si…yes…my wife."

Hannibal's eyebrow arched at the response.

"You speak English?"

"Si…yes. I speak English, my wife, please…no harm."

Hannibal moved closer to the man, assessing the barrel, filled with snow-covered limbs. The fingers stretched upward giving the body parts the appearance of spindly tree branches, the leaves long gone. Musing that one arm was sticking directly up, the index finger pointing heavenward, Hannibal touched his fingertip to it mimicking Michelangelo's Creation of Man.

_I doubt even God can help you now, my friend._

Circling the barrel as he spoke, his own hands now clasped tightly behind his back, Hannibal probed, "Why would I do you harm? You have done nothing to endanger my family. You clearly pose no threat therefore you have nothing to fear from me. If you had jeopardized my wife or child, when last I visited your ranch I would have paid a personal visit to your home rather than restricting my visit to inspecting the barn."

The gentleman began to puff heated breaths into his hands, cupped in front of his face to warm them. He tamped his feet in the snow in an attempt to warm his toes- his shoes obviously not designed for extended wear in this weather. His eyes never left Hannibal's, fear lurking within the glint of light reflecting from the fullness of the moon.

"You…you know of my ranch? You have visited it?"

Using the index finger and thumb of his right hand, Hannibal pinched a single finger from one of the dead limbs, and lifted one of the frozen arms slightly from the barrel. Hannibal leaned over, hoisted the limb toward his face and nostrils flaring widely, he inhaled deeply. His eyes blinked once, his head tilting like an owl's, rotating at an almost unnatural angle as he processed the olfactory stimuli.

When he was certain of his assessment, he responded, "Yes. It seemed the polite thing to do. You have, after all, visited my home. I thought it rude not to return the visit. I know of the holding area in the barn as well. Do you have additional plans for it, aside from the slaughter of this man whose limbs are in the barrel? It is the same man whose head you delivered not long ago, yes? It is the same scent of death that is carried in that stall. This man was killed there, correct?"

The rancher barely blinked, so transfixed was he on the accuracy of Hannibal's description of the ranch and assessment of the crime scene. He paused for a moment, watching, waiting.

When he determined he had no other choice but to trust Hannibal, the rancher explained, "Yes. It is Fernando. He was an itinerant worker from Columbia. I hired him through my church to help him escape the cartel. And you are correct. I didn't kill him myself, but he was slaughtered in my barn. He was chained and dismembered by the drug dealer he sought to escape. Now the dealer is a threat to my safety and that of my family. Now, he promises to return for my daughter and my young son. I must find a way to stop him, but I cannot kill. I cannot kill and that is why I must turn to you."

"You cannot kill, and so you are here because you believe that I can?"

The man took several steps back, though he didn't exactly know why. He lowered his head, almost penitently as he spoke, "You have before."

"In defense of my life and to protect my family."

Backing up still, stepping back from the barrel of death, as if needing to separate from the act of murder the disembodied limbs implied, the rancher explained.

"Sir, I have read about you. You've not simply killed for pleasure you've committed acts of violence to protect others as well. You maimed the wealthy man, having him disfigure his own face to make sure he could no longer harm children. I thought, perhaps, you might help me to protect my own children."

Hannibal thought it time to prove his point.

"I have a child of my own, Signor Cervelli."

The sound of his name on Hannibal's lips terrified the man.

"You know my name?"

"Yes, as you know mine. I've told you, I have visited your ranch. You have lovely alpaca. Perhaps you might explain to me why you have brought the detached body parts of a murder victim to my home- the home I share with my wife and my child. Knowing my past, did you not think sections of a corpse might raise the suspicions of law enforcement? Did you not consider that I might be looked upon as a suspect?"

The suggestion that he might have endangered Hannibal in some way appeared to have upset Cervelli.

"I delivered the first barrel moments after your guests entered your compound and placed the barrel directly in front of the cameras. I am not similar in build to you and made certain my body was in plain view so the police wouldn't consider you a suspect. Your friends and my truck were your alibi. I never meant for you to be considered a threat and I would never jeopardize your family."

"I am heartened you considered the welfare of my wife and child, thank you. The snow is building and I am not dressed appropriately for this weather. Would you like to join me in my home that we may discuss this in comfort?"

Cervelli stood, silently assessing the situation.

Hannibal, seeing the man's indecision, continued, "You do understand that I am inviting you into my home, the home I share with my wife and my precious child. There are additionally two FBI agents staying as our guests, friends of my wife. I assure you and your wife will be quite safe. My car is parked one hundred yards back from the direction you came. You may follow me through the security gate. If it is true that you require assistance, you will find me more amenable if I am warm and comfortable. Right now, I am cold and my patience and generosity is wearing quite thin. I'll not make the offer again."

"Yes…yes…we will join you."

Hannibal smiled and turned toward the stand of trees that not minutes before, he'd hidden behind.

"Are you in agreement, my Love?"

Sighing that her stealth had been unsuccessful and that Hannibal had been aware of her presence, Clarice stepped out from behind the trees. She discreetly held the tire iron behind her back as she called out to her husband.

"Sure, that's fine, H. They can follow us to the house but the arms and whatever else is in the barrel go back on their truck. This isn't a Mafia Waste Management facility so we're not set up to process human body parts."

The rancher nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes…understood."

* * *

Turning to walk through the snowfall back toward his car, Hannibal approached his wife and slipped her arm through his. His kissed her cheek as he referenced her weapon of choice.

"A tire iron, Clarice? Really?"

"Whatever it takes, H…whatever it takes."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
LH**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hannibal's Bodyguards**

Hannibal paused, "Clarice, if you wouldn't mind continuing to the car, I'd like to suggest our guests return to their home and drop off their unfortunate employee. I wouldn't compromise your friends or the safety of our family by allowing Mr. Cervelli to park the vehicle on our property with slaughtered human remains on board."

Her fears relieved, before answering Hannibal, Clarice lifted her chin as an invitation to her husband. Without needing any more provocation than her eyes meeting his, Hannibal gently touched his lips to hers. The kiss was tender and sensing the implied vulnerability didn't advance the contact, instead acquiescing to the romance of the moment as the breeze wrapped a gentle curtain of snow around them.

Clarice rested a hand over his heart in time to feel his efforts as he slowly steadied his heart rate, exertion evident in his body as Hannibal's breath huffed from his nostrils warming her cheeks. With regret, but clearly pleased with the experience they pulled back one from the other. As their lips slowly detached each partner eagerly mouthed and tugged gently at one another in an effort to extend the contact. At the final separation, both smiled.

Cupping his wife's face with both hands Hannibal stroked his thumbs over her cheeks. Leaning forward he kissed the tip of her nose.

"You haven't any reservations have you, Clarice?"

Secure with the decision, Clarice confirmed, "None. I trust you, H. And having them go back home first is probably a good idea. We don't want your detective friend snooping around at the wrong time."

"I don't recall ever having proclaimed the detective a friend." Hannibal chuckled and placed another kiss, this one on the side of his wife's cheek, gently pressing his to hers as he whispered, "and is there ever a right time for that sort of thing?"

Understanding Hannibal's aversion to the man, not only because of his connection to law enforcement, but because he was rude in the extreme, Clarice commiserated, "No, there really isn't, H, and that man was an ass. Still, we'll probably have to involve him in some way. He is the local law enforcement professional."

Hannibal hands left her face and smoothed down her neck, resting on his wife's shoulders rolling his palms over the caps of her deltoids.

"I would debate the use of the work professional in the context of that offensive man. Eventually, I shall attend to his discourteous behavior."

Clarice grasped her husband's hips and rocked against his body, teasing, "As long as 'attend' isn't a euphemism for killing and eating the bastard, I don't blame you for wanting to call the man to task. It really was a good call asking Mr. Cervelli to drop off that barrel. Just in case."

Sliding his hands from her shoulders he skimmed his fingers over the lengths of her arms settling them on her hips as he mimicked the rocking motion. The pair stood pressed against each other, their bodies swaying as the snow swirled lightly around them.

"Not to mention, it would be unseemly to greet guests without having had the opportunity to shower. Not that I find the prospect of keeping your scent distasteful, quite the opposite. I find I miss it immensely when it is gone, but one must observe the proprieties."

"That's why I married you, H. You're always looking out for us."

Hannibal removed his wife's hands from his hips and brought them to his lips, kissing them tenderly.

"One tries, my Love."

Releasing Clarice, Hannibal turned to inform the rancher, now struggling mightily with the barrel, of the decision.

Clarice smiled as Hannibal trotted through the snow in the direction of Mr. Cervelli. Ever observant, snow falling around her she mused at the surreal situation playing out in front of her. Hannibal was now assisting the man, the pair hefting the barrel with detached arms banging against the sides, flaying within.

The pair loaded barrel, Hannibal doing the lion's share of the lifting sliding the metal bin filled with organic material on the back of the old truck. Hannibal hopped onto the bed, and adroitly secured the handles with a pair of ratcheting tie-downs.

_He's such a good man…my man…_

The rancher climbed into his truck and waved at Hannibal. This man she had feared scant moments before was now invited him to her home. This quick shift in mood and emotion finally struck her.

_What a crazy freaking thing. One minute I think the guy's a killer, the next, he's coming over with his wife for Hannibal's advice. Life with Hannibal phenomenal as it is, can at times be absolutely fucking surreal…_

Funny thing was it seemed a common thing to her. With Hannibal, she'd come to expect such things. Not the barrel filled with body parts or the once-thought murderer coming for coffee, no, not that. It was more the thought that her husband's instincts and his insight would always protect his family. He knew instinctually that this rancher posed no threat, now obvious by the fact that he asked her to come along tonight for his 'hunt'. He invited her because he was certain there was no real danger or he would never have exposed her to the events of the evening. She hadn't thought of it sooner, but now as he pretended to lose his footing playfully sliding across the snow in her direction, she knew.

Returning to his wife, snow dusting up from his clothing as he allowed their bodies to collide, Hannibal wrapped his arms around Clarice and pulled her close as they spun in a circle from the inertia created by the intentionally awkward contact.

"You needn't have waited in the cold, I suggested you return to the car, Clarice."

Palms flat on her husband's chest, Clarice surged forward and bit his bottom lip, tugging it before releasing. She teased, "You _suggested_ I return and I _decided_ to wait. Do you have a problem with that, _Hannibal Lecter?"_

At the coquettish way his wife leaned on his body as she used his full name, Hannibal smiled, "Not at all. I'm heartened by your attentive and defensive nature. It is one of your most attractive features."

Nuzzling her face along his neck, she pursued, "That and…"

"That and…"

Smoothing his hands across her shoulders and down her sides, skimming over her hips to the small of her back, Hannibal allowed his hands to span her bottom he responded quixotically, "Well, among the infinite list, I find myself driven to distraction by the gentle curve of your back just as it meets your…"

"Okay, Romeo. I get the point."

"As often as I can make it, Clarice."

"Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H."

"Heaven forbid, my Love…heaven forbid."

* * *

Though he knew his visitors would soon arrive Hannibal's first priority upon entering the home, once he was certain his son was still sleeping, was to shower. Though he was able to convince his wife that a joint shower would save time, he was unable to convince her of anything but. The pair showered and joined Logan and Ardelia.

As Clarice explained the recent events, Logan seemed incredibly uninterested. Rolling his eyes he joined, "Yadda, yadda, yadda- dead limbs in a barrel. We're all law enforcement professionals here. We've seen our share of body parts. No big deal."

"Hannibal isn't a law enforcement professional," Ardelia chimed.

Once the topic shifted to Hannibal, Logan excited, "Well, not technically, but he's got the highest body count in the room, so I think we'll just call that even."

Though Hannibal didn't bat an eye at the comment, Clarice took offense for him.

"Oh, really funny, Logan."

Realizing what he said could be misconstrued as rudeness, Logan backtracked, "What? It's not as if I'm lying. Jeesh it's a freaking compliment. It's no secret he's smarter than any of us, or anyone we've ever even heard of. Hell, if he hadn't gotten creative with the tableaus, Will Graham never would have caught him. In the professional department, agent or not, Doc's got us all beat."

Amazed that he wouldn't stop talking, Ardelia elbowed Logan in the ribs causing the much larger man to squeal like a stuck pig.

"Why don't you quit while your still breathing, genius?"

Logan wasn't worried Hannibal would react physically, but he was worried he might have offended his friend. Turning to Hannibal, he fretted, "You're not upset I said that, are you Doc? I really did mean it as a compliment. You know how much I respect you."

"Logan, not to worry. Nothing you've stated is untrue. I was captured due to my… artistic flair, as it were and as I understand your intentions I am in no way offended."

The buzzer from the front gate sounded.

"Excuse me. I believe our guests have arrived."

* * *

Hannibal moved to the security panel just off the front hallway and activated the mechanism that opened the large gate. Pressing the intercom, he addressed his guests.

"Good evening. If you would, just follow the drive to the end and park. Someone will meet you outside and direct you into the home."

"Thank you, Doctor Lecter…thank you."

"Not at all. I shall be with you shortly."

Hannibal returned to notify his wife, speaking softly, "Clarice, I'll be walking to the end of the path to meet the Cervelli's. I'll be but a moment. Perhaps you would adjoin to the dining room. I'll be serving refreshments and believe it the most practical consideration."

Concerned, Clarice offered, "Sure, we'll shift to the dining room, but should you go out there alone, H? We don't know these people."

Seeing an opportunity to help Hannibal, Logan jumped to his feet.

"Nope, you definitely shouldn't go out there alone. Not that you can't handle some old dude and his lady, but you shouldn't go out without a witness. You never know what their intentions could be. The whole thing might be a huge set-up. That detective was a douche. I wouldn't put anything past him."

Ardelia nodded, "Much as it pains me to say it, Hannibal, I think Logan's right. You never know what they might be up to. Better to be safe than sorry. You've got a family to worry about now."

"Yes, thank you, Ardelia. I appreciate your concern."

Shifting his attention to his wife, Hannibal stared forward, unblinking as he questioned, "I'm certain you understand my position and I would appreciate your thoughts on the matter."

"Just my thoughts, H?"

"No, not just your thoughts. I will defer to your wishes, Clarice."

His stoic gaze led his wife to realize he didn't want to be babysat by an overeager agent twenty years his junior. Still it would be an intelligent precautionary measure and because of that, if Clarice insisted, Hannibal wouldn't deny the request.

"Look, H, I'd feel much better about this if one of us went out there with you and I think an active duty agent is a better choice than your wife. You know… as a witness in case there's something going on here that's more than meets the eye. Unless you've got some reservations, Logan's the most practical choice."

Logan rushed across the room to stand proudly beside Hannibal.

"That's me! The practical choice! Come on, Doc, I'll play bodyguard while we go greet the neighbors."

_Bodyguard. How droll._

Without so much as blinking or shifting his eyes from Clarice, Hannibal responded to Logan.

"Thank you, Logan. If you'd agree to accompany me, I would appreciate your support."

As Logan bounded for the door like a newborn puppy tumbling over himself, Hannibal stood very still, staring forward at Clarice.

Anxious as she awaited his reaction, Clarice urged, "Come on, H, we're not at Baltimore State, anymore. Just blink, already. You're totally freaking me out."

Blinking slowly as if the motion itself flipped a switch, Hannibal's attention shifted.

"My apologies, Clarice. That wasn't my intention. If you'll excuse me, I'll return with our guests."

Hannibal left the room. Clarice and Ardelia waited until they heard him exit the home. Ardelia spoke first.

"Jesus, Clarice. Hannibal was sooo not pleased when you suggested Logan go with him."

"He puts up with a lot to ease my mind."

"That's for sure. That was too funny! Hannibal Lecter asking Logan to be his body guard is like the pope asking an altar boy for help with a prayer."

Clarice laughed, "Amen, Dee."

* * *

The moment Hannibal opened the front door and escorted the Cervelli's into the dining room, as if the boy sensed their presence, his son began to vocalize.

"If you will excuse me, it is my task to retrieve the boy when he is ready to feed." Hannibal turned to his wife. "Clarice, if you will make the introductions, perhaps Mr. Cervelli can explain a bit of the situation to Ardelia and Logan. Advice from two active FBI agents in this matter can only benefit."

"Sure, H. Thanks."

Hannibal excused himself and trotted up the stairs to his son's room. Upon entering, he turned off the intercom and approached the crib.

"Hello, my son. You've had quite the nap, are you ready for your supper? Mother is downstairs waiting patiently."

As Hannibal lifted his son, the baby reached with both hands to grab is father's face. Pulling, he reached toward Hannibal and latched onto the tip of his father's nose.

Laughing as the baby mouthed his nose, Hannibal blew bubbles of air against his son's belly. The boy released the nose, but still holding Hannibal's head, laughed hysterically.

Continuing the process, Hannibal blew air against his son abdomen causing the rumbling sensation and sound that made the baby laugh all the way to the changing table where Hannibal placed him gently and changed his diaper.

Father and son conversed and laughed, the boy babbling happily as his father responded to every word as if the conversation was plainly understood.

"Yes, you can keep your mother company in the music room so you won't have to share your dinner with our guests. Perhaps you can oversee the letter she will want to write. No doubt, with your inspiration it will be perfectly worded. You certainly assisted my composition. Come, my son. Mommy waits."

* * *

Hannibal entered the dining room and after addressing his guests and allowing them to coo over the baby for a time, he handed his now fussy son to his wife, "Clarice, young Hannibal wishes to nurse, perhaps you'd like to retire to the music room. I put a bit of Mozart on the stereo when I retrieved our son and the couch is quite comfortable. You'll have all the privacy and comfort you need."

"Sure, that's a great idea, H. Thanks for being so thoughtful."

Clarice agreed with Hannibal, not that he needed to prompt the decision, as she had absolutely no intention of breastfeeding in front of their guests. It was a family event and expressly not to be shared with outsiders, so when Hannibal suggested she use the couch in the music room, she quickly conceded and carried her son through the home to the music room.

Sitting quietly nursing her son, Clarice noticed a letter on the desk and additional stationary left out obviously for her use. Unable to reach the letter, she waited until her son had his fill. When the baby finished feeding, Clarice carried him to the desk.

"Did Daddy write the letter to his aunt? Well, if he left it out in the open he intended for me to find it. Let's see if we are going to have a relative coming to visit."

Clarice read the letter and decided, as Hannibal spoke in his correspondence, to add a letter of her own. Holding her son on her lap, she took pen to paper and began to write.

Before leaving to again join the assemblage, Clarice set her own letter beside that of her husband, open, a clear invitation to be not only read, but mailed as well.

**Until the next chapter, my friends,**

**LH**


	19. Chapter 19

**HANNIBAL'S RAGE**

There was a debate among the assembled as to whether or not the police should be involved. Cervelli was insistent. He wanted nothing to do with the police department and would not agree to contact the lead detective handling the case. He was doing his level best to explain his position when Clarice returned to the room after nursing her son. Sitting beside Hannibal at the dining room table, she tipped her head to his shoulder and listened as the man argued his point as respectfully as possible.

"No, I turned to you for assistance, Doctor, because I cannot trust the police to have my best interests in mind."

Hannibal's muscles tightened, his jaw clenching the moment the term 'best interests' left Cervelli's lips.

Feeling Hannibal's body suddenly tense, Clarice lifted her head from her husband's shoulder and turned her attention to his body language. Hannibal's nostril's flared as his unblinking eyes fixed on Cervelli. Seeing that Hannibal had no intention of breaking the contact, Clarice leaned in and watched for any reaction by the rancher.

_Okay he's testing you, Buddy so let's see what you've got._

Cervelli could feel the heat of Hannibal's laser-like attention and though he struggled to maintain the gaze, he quickly folded under the psychological pressure. The rancher, with his heart pounding so hard it was practically audible, turned his gaze to the table, his panic evident.

_Failed the test…he's either lying, or terrified…maybe both._

If she could so easily detect the man's anxiety, she was certain her husband's senses were definitely alerted. Clarice wondered what would cause the man to be so afraid. He chose to come to their home and he chose to involve Hannibal. Why then, would he be so filled with apparent dread?

_This doesn't add up, H…but you know that already, don't you?_

Clarice noted that though his eyes remained steady, Hannibal's head angled slightly as he assessed the situation. Her suspicions were confirmed when Hannibal's eyebrow lifted, a tell obvious only to Clarice that he had formed a hypothesis.

Hannibal had no concern to hide this realization as he continued to courteously catechize Cervelli, "Am I to gather that you will not share your information with the police department? Under any circumstances?"

Clarice's intuition and her husband's deliberately conspicuous reaction, made it additionally obvious the rancher knew more than he had initially let on. Understanding that Hannibal didn't suffer fools well, Clarice was not surprised by the tone of Hannibal's voice and realized that his patience was quickly thinning. Though he made no outward signal of his frustration, Clarice's close proximity and knowledge of her husband told her a different story. This personal connection informed that he was clearly annoyed by the man's stubborn insistence not to involve the police.

_He's getting under your skin, H…why?_

Cervelli dug in his figurative heels and persisted, "That is it exactly. I won't tell them a thing, not under any circumstances because it would only complicate the problem for my family."

Hannibal's voice was calm as he expressed his indignation, "Ah, you are concerned with how this might complicate matters for your family, but you failed to reflect before proceeding on precisely how it might complicate matters for _my_ family. If I had been arrested, do you not think it would impact my family? Surely you understood I would be immediately suspect, that the police might have arrested me the moment they discovered the disposed remains of your unfortunate ranch hand on my property?"

Cervelli jumped to his feet so quickly the force caused the backs of his legs to shove the chair several inches along the floor. Waving his hands wildly, the rancher insisted, "No, please, no! It was never my intention for you to be blamed in any way! I honestly didn't think you'd even consider calling the police. I didn't want you to call the police, I need your help… I need your help."

Cervelli's wife calmly tugged at his arm until the man sat quietly.

This declaration shocked Clarice, the astonishment more than obvious as she asserted, "You dropped slaughtered remains practically at our doorstep. What in the world did you think my husband would do?"

Cervelli addressed Clarice as if Hannibal wasn't present.

"Your husband's a convicted killer who has dealt with the parts of murdered people before. I never thought he'd call the police if I placed the barrel on your property precisely because they _would_ suspect him."

Clarice was visibly shaken by the rancher's comments.

"What the hell did you think he would do?"

"I assumed Doctor Lecter would simply dispose of the body parts. I swear on all that is holy that never in a million years would I have guessed you would involve that detective. Why would a serial killer call the police? No, I honestly never considered it."

Logan's shoulder's shook with anger at the rancher's comment, protesting vehemently as he jabbed an accusatory finger at Cervelli, raging, "Hey, Dude, watch it with all that serial killer crap. Doctor Lecter invited you into his home. That's not cool, how you're talking about him."

Not seeing the need to defend himself from a comment that was, in both letter and spirit truthful, Hannibal countered, "There's no need to defend me, Logan. I assure you, I'm not offended."

"Doc, I know you're a classy guy and you wouldn't complain if you were on fire, but this guy really took a chance with your family. I've got a mind to take one of those dead limbs he keeps trying to drop off here and whack him over the head with it."

Hannibal turned his attention to Clarice, giving her the why-don't-you-control-your-friend-look. She immediately understood and responded, "Hey Logan, stand down."

Logan, Hannibal's self-appointed bodyguard, looked legitimately hurt that his defense of his friend was not needed.

"Fine, let him say whatever he wants. He's rude…that's all I'm saying. He's just rude."

Ardelia elbowed Logan as she warned, "Enough, Logan, Hannibal's capable of defending himself- it's not your place to decided whether or not he needs it."

Logan threw himself against the back of his chair, pouting as he complained, "Fine, but he should apologize."

Cervelli's wife nudged her husband in an effort to urge an apology. Her husband conceded to her advisement not out of obligation, more of a feeling of duty.

Clearing his throat, voice cracking from the emotional strain, "Allow me to beg your forgiveness, Doctor Lecter, Mrs. Lecter. Thinking of the precarious situation in which you were placed, now, in hindsight I probably should have made another choice. Please, you must understand both my desperation and my desire to keep the detective out of my family's business. I shouldn't have chanced involving you, but I truly believe you are my only safe recourse."

Hannibal wasn't exactly sold on this penitent statement. There was another level to this. One he sensed, but needed confirmation. He pursued his hypothesis.

"As you've stated quite succinctly, I am a convicted killer and have made absolutely no apology for my behavior, yet you consider contacted me a safe option and the detective decidedly not? I will admit the man is quite the pompous ass," Hannibal explained, "but I did not sense duplicity. I would not consider him a corrupt man, simply offensively discourteous. Why then would you refuse his assistance?"

The man was adamant in his assertion, his voice cracking with emotion as he persisted, "No, I turned to you because I do not want the authorities. My son…"

"What does your son have to do with this?" Clarice probed, "Is he being threatened?"

Hannibal spoke up quickly and with assertion, "No, Clarice. His son is not being threatened."

With unrelenting urgency in his voice, Cervelli leaned forward and bounced his fist on the dining room table, pressing his point.

"He is in danger, there is no doubt in my mind. He is in grave danger."

Clearly unmoved, Hannibal responded dispassionately, "As I believe this disagreement is simply a case of semantics, I'll not argue the point."

With that comment, Hannibal immediately disconnected from the conversation. Hands clasped with his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, Hannibal tapped his index fingers to his lips. No longer contributing to the conversation he watched the rancher and his wife very carefully. The woman was a few years beyond middle age, her long greying hair pulled back into a tight braid. Like her plump body, her features were rounded, her eyes a soft brown. Hannibal could sense a tremendous sadness, even more prevalent than the fear he sensed continually leaching from her pores.

_She must be extremely worried or she would not have come. She is obviously afraid of me, so for this woman to have come her there is something of which she is much more fearful. _

He turned his attention to the rancher. The man was animated, excessively so as he spoke of his deep distrust of law enforcement. It seemed an unusual stance for an individual so well respected in the community. It wasn't as if he had a history with the police, in fact, quite the opposite. The visit Hannibal made to the music room was not simply to turn on the sound system to make his wife's nursing more relaxing. Sitting at his computer, Hannibal ran several background searches on Cervelli and his wife.

There were several Cervelli's listed, some of whom had extensive police involvement, but there was only one in this man's age group and he had no arrests and neither had the wife. Hannibal watched as the man's hands gesticulated wildly while Ardelia played devil's advocate.

"Okay, let's say you don't notify the police and they somehow happen upon the rogue's gallery of body parts rattling around in the back of your truck. How are you going to explain that?"

Cervelli didn't even pause- there was not so much as a stutter to his words as he explained dispassionately, "I will say I found the barrel on the back of the truck. This vehicle belonged to the dead man and has no ties to me. I shall tell them it was abandoned along the side of the road adjoining my property and that I was bringing it to the police."

Logan shook his head in barefaced disagreement.

"Dude, no disrespect, but they'll ask why you tampered with the evidence by moving the truck. What'll you say then?"

Cervelli was absolutely unflappable. It was obvious, both to Hannibal and Clarice, that this man had given very serious thought to his predicament. He delivered his responses so calmly and with such confident pronouncement that Hannibal began to doubt the full veracity of his story. It wasn't that Hannibal sensed falsehood, moreover it was a nuance hidden within the man's version of the truth that crawled within the folds of the good doctor's brain, insisting upon itself.

Again, Cervelli's response was polished.

"If I had been stopped by the police, I would have said that I wasn't sure of the procedure and I didn't want to keep the dead body near my ranch. The stench of death would draw predators to the area and that would endanger my alpaca. Also, my wife and my daughter have very delicate sensibilities and I wouldn't want them exposed to such…ferocity."

Clarice turned her head and rolled her eyes at Ardelia. It was obvious to both women the more the man explained, the less his story held up to the scrutiny.

Ardelia nodded in agreement. This man's story seemed so unlikely she too, pursued, "Telling them you don't understand the law or that you aren't aware of the procedures won't help your case. Ignorance of the law isn't a defense."

Cervelli stated in response, "I'm not concerned about myself."

"You're still worried about the threats to your son?" Clarice questioned sympathetically as she held her own child tighter to her body.

Clarice's reaction, her misplaced sympathy for the rancher alerted Hannibal. He closed his eyes, folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the back of the chair.

"Please Clarice, do not pursue the red herring."

All eyes shifted to Hannibal.

"Red Herring? H?"

"Yes, Clarice. The threat to Mr. Cervelli's son is the red herring."

"No. There is no red herring. My family is in danger, my son especially."

_My son especially?_

Hannibal rankled at the expression of that particular thought. The flashes of crimson sparked like hellfire within the maroon center of Hannibal's irises. That combined with the slightest twitch in the corner of his mouth were the only outward sign of his mounting ferocity.

"And had I been arrested it would have impacted my family quite dramatically, my son especially. And if that assumption is valid had I not had witnesses to prove my alibi, I would have been arrested. That being said, I can only surmise that your intention was to deflect the blame for this crime from someone you love, from _your son especially_, to me."

Seeing the rage building in her husband's eyes, Clarice reached for Hannibal's wrist and felt along the cuff. Feeling nothing, she leaned against his should whispered covertly, "Hey, H…where's your harpy?"

Hannibal's reached across his wife's body and placed his palm on the top of his son's head, gently tousling the baby's hair, stroking his thumb along the boy's scalp in an effort to calm himself. To his surprise, the scent released from the action didn't calm, but instead fueled Hannibal's protective streak. His jaw clenched, teeth gritted as he glared at the rancher, his mind playing back Cervelli's words.

_My family is in danger, my son especially._

Hannibal continued to stroke his son's head- a seemingly calming motion, but the escalating immolation in his gaze became so obvious, Clarice panicked, again whispering so as not to alert their friends or guests, "H…please...not now..."

"If not now, Clarice..." Hannibal lifted his hand from his son's head and stood, his voice a quiet growl, "soon…very, very soon."

**Until the next chapter, my friends, **

**LH**


	20. Chapter 20

**MAKING PLANS**

The baby sensed the anxiety in the room as well as the tension in his father's hand and began to whimper quietly.

Clarice carefully observed her husband, hopeful to keep her expression nondescript. Knowing with his unusual abilities Hannibal would sense her tension she hoped he might not attribute her anxiety to his behavior. If she remained calm she reasoned her husband would conclude she was upset by the comportment of the rancher and not by her perception of his actions.

_He's really going to be pissed off that I asked him about the harpy… I was quiet about it so no one else would hear me but I'll need to apologize. I can't keep treating him like a rage-filled psychopath that can't be trusted. Rage-filled, I'd almost prefer that…his calm is scarier than his anger._

Removing every bit of agitation from her voice she extended her left arm and reaching for Hannibal's hand Clarice coaxed his fingers within her grasp, offering, "H, the baby's tired. Would you mind?"

The moment Clarice spoke the only part of Hannibal's body that shifted were his eyes. The room held their collective breath waiting as a terrifyingly calm, lethally still Hannibal Lecter paused and considered the situation.

The moment Hannibal waited seemed an eternity. His body didn't move, his breath even seemed barely perceptible as his eyes darted from Clarice holding his child, to Cervelli and back to the baby once more. Young Hannibal, clearly uncomfortable though his cries were no more than a mild complaint, persisted in his upset.

Deciding the welfare of his son exceeded his own distress Hannibal turned toward his wife and reached for his child, speaking softly, "Yes, of course, Clarice. It would be my pleasure to tend our son."

Lifting the boy in his arms and bringing the baby's cheek to his, Hannibal inhaled deeply. The scent of his child enforcing his resolve, Hannibal addressed his guests.

"If you will excuse me, my son has a bedtime ritual that is fairly extensive. I may not return before you are prepared to leave, so I'll beg your forgiveness and bid you good evening. I am certain whatever information you have can be shared with my wife and friends. I am convinced our paths will cross again very soon. If you will excuse me."

Hannibal respectfully bowed. As he lowered his head, tracing his nose along his son's cheek, he clutched his child protectively to his chest and carried the boy from the room.

Clearly intimidated, but not wanting to draw attention to their discomfit, all eyes were averted and because no one watched Hannibal leave the room they had no idea he rapidly swiped his hand across the wall over the intercom. The movement was so elegant in its efficiency it didn't draw attention, therefore none of those left behind had any idea Hannibal had activated the intercom and would hear every word of their conversation.

* * *

"Your husband is upset. He is clearly angry with me and that was not my intention," Cervelli whispered reverently. "I have tremendous respect for him and wished his assistance only. My son…"

Clarice interrupted, "Your son? Mr. Cervelli, with all due respect while I'm sure he is important to you, your son is not important to my husband or me. You may've noticed we have a child of our own to think about. You want Hannibal to do what...kill someone for you?"

Suddenly animated, Cervelli clamored, "Yes…yes…I can pay. I can do whatever he wishes me to do."

Having just stuffed a cannoli in his mouth, Logan chewed quickly wanting to get his point in before Clarice jumped to Hannibal's defense. A backhanded swipe across his mouth cleared the cream and powered sugar, allowing Logan to hurriedly insert himself into the discussion as if he were Hannibal's personal defamation attorney.

"No disrespect but paid hits aren't exactly his style; he's Hannibal Lecter, not _Luca Brasi_."

"What if what he wishes is to be left alone?" Ardelia questioned as her right hand shot out, reflexively swatting Logan for his impudence.

Cervelli shook his head vehemently as if the motion might banish that likelihood.

"No, no…it's too late for that. They already know he'll protect my son. I've entreated him, I have prayed for his intervention. He cannot deny me. If he does, they will come for him."

"_Who_ will come for him?"

"I told them he speaks for me- that he is San La Muerta. If he doesn't agree to represent me, they'll still consider him a likely threat. They won't believe he's walked away from this fight."

"But, it's not _his_ fight." Ardelia persisted, "why would they come for him if he's refused you protection."

"San La Muerta cannot refuse, therefore they'll assume he's proceeding covertly. No, if he refuses, it's likely they'll attempt to take him."

Though Clarice thought she should have been afraid, she found that she was more enraged than anything else. The hiss in her voice when she spoke shocked her as she snarled, "I'd like to see them try…"

Ardelia understood Clarice's anger, but this was the time to accumulate information, not posture. She continued to assess the danger, asking plainly, "So, they're based here? In Argentina?"

Cervelli calmly outlined the circumstances, "Not originally. They're from Mexico but they've traveled here to extend their overseas exportation abilities. The members come and go on my ranch as they please and because of the involvement of my offspring, I've been unable to keep them away."

The man's wording was not wasted on Clarice.

_He said offspring, not just son. Damn it! I should've put the baby to bed myself. Hannibal would know what to make of all this. He'd sniff out who's involved in a minute._

Cervelli continued explaining, "The leader's name is Chavez and with the help of my…well, it doesn't matter who, or how, or why, only that he's commandeered one of the outbuildings on northeastern border of my property: a large barn and smaller meat processing building that was utilized by the previous owner when the property was a cattle ranch."

Clarice watched the rancher's eyes for any sign of deceit as she delved, "They didn't commandeer a building to play pin-the-tail-on-the-alpaca so what the heck are they doing there?"

"They've been processing the drugs and that was bad enough, but now they wish me to include bundles of cocaine in my shipments of Alpaca and fleece overseas. I wouldn't take the pay; I wouldn't even listen to their offers, so now they have decided to threaten me through my children."

Ardelia continued to organize her thoughts in an effort to discover the full nature of the threat. Clarice was far too emotional, having difficulty considering anything but the immediate danger to her husband. Seeing the bigger picture, Ardelia was attempting to plan an operation to take down the dealer's entire syndicate.

"Is your son involved? Is he working with the drug dealers?"

Mrs. Cervelli chimed in in defense of her son.

"He was. They had him convinced they were his friends until they killed Francisco. Now he's frightened and we need to get him out of this situation before he gets hurt, but we can't get them off our property without involving the police."

Clarice walked to the kitchen, and reached for the carafe of coffee that Hannibal had set on the long marble breakfast counter. She carried it to the dining room and reheated everyone's cup. She then set out a second tray of pastry, gesturing for her guests to help themselves. Her eyebrows were tightly knitted as she weighed the circumstances attempting to justify the lack of law enforcement involvement as she busied herself playing hostess.

"I still fail to see why you are so insistent the police not be made aware of your circumstances."

"I cannot call the police. As I said, they have my son and…"

Unconvinced, Clarice persisted, "And? And what?"

"My daughter, Magdalena…" The rancher didn't elaborate, instead continuing, "They want me to agree to let them package their cocaine within the bundles of fleece for shipment to Europe. They are not a large cartel, more a gang, but they're ruthless and want to grow their distribution at my expense."

"What if we got Pearsall involved and set up a sting. We could make arrangements to have the drugs brought to a warehouse for shipment with the fleece. If Cervelli's son is already on the inside it shouldn't be too difficult."

"He isn't on the inside in any valuable way, he's…simple. They use him to do their bidding but he isn't in a position of authority. That's why they think Hannibal speaks for me and not my son. Because he is slow…mentally. Because of his compromised intellect he isn't involved in my business and they know I wouldn't be able to trust him with the affairs of my company. No, it has to be San La Muerta because that's who they expect."

Returning to her seat but not taking it, Clarice paced for a moment as she debated the situation. Placing her hands on the back of the chair recently vacated by her husband as if drawing some comfort from his residual aura, she was adamant, "I don't care who they suspect. I'm not asking my husband to be bait for some twisted drug dealer. He's been through too much already. All this for some kid he doesn't even know? This is freaking ridiculous!"

Seeking to alter her perception, Cervelli urged understanding, "I had nothing with which to bargain for my son because they respect power and I have none. I saw the television program of your family. Hannibal has defended weaker people and my son is very weak- he cannot defend himself because he has the intellect of a seven year old, therefore they can bend him to their will without complaint or refusal because he knows no better. They know I won't fight back and they know I won't kill, but when I told them Doctor Lecter is my friend they said perhaps they might let my son go. They respect him because he fears no one. Now they respect me because they fear him."

Clarice shoved Hannibal's chair against the table in frustration. She knew her husband would want to help if he was aware the young man was developmentally disabled and he would be upset if she tried to hide that fact from him. She felt as powerless as Cervelli.

_Don't lie to me, or I'll know…_

Her voice as elevated as her ire, Clarice asserted, "My complaint is that you had the nerve to tell them he was your friend and planned to use him before you'd even met him!"

Cervelli lowered his head. He was not only penitent he was ashamed, covering his face with his hands his shoulders shook as he sobbed quietly.

His wife, seeing her husband's anguish and embarrassment brushed her hand down the length of his arm to comfort him. It was obvious to the woman that without Hannibal's presence in the room, Clarice was the person who needed to be convinced.

One wife to another, she understood Clarice's fear having Hannibal involved, speaking apologetically, "It seems manipulative and for that I know my husband is truly sorry but you must understand that we had no choice. My husband knew Doctor Lecter would understand the need was extreme if he entreated him as San La Muerta. As my husband said, we have seen the television program about your family. We know that although your husband has killed many people most were very evil and because of that, we recognized that he is a good man and knew he would help our son."

"I'll leave this up to H, he's a grown man and can make his own decisions but I'm not asking this of him. I don't care how many people are in danger or how many die, I won't ask him risk his life…I won't. He means too much to me and to our son."

Her mind still planning, Ardelia proposed, "If we can arrange it with Pearsall and that obnoxious detective all we'll need from Hannibal is for him to show up. Since we know where to find them, you know we can set it up so he's safe."

Cervelli protested, "But what about my son…my daughter? How will I know the police will keep them safe? How will I know I can trust them?"

Clarice dropped onto the chair with not a hint of grace, having had had enough of Cervelli's whining about the police, suggesting, "Well, you can trust them a hell of a lot more than you can that a drug gang, so it's coordinating with the FBI and local law enforcement, or you're on your own because I'm not asking my husband to put himself at risk without people I can trust to watch his back.

Logan chimed in with confidence, "You can trust me, Clarice. You know I'll be there and I wouldn't let anything happen to my buddy so no worries. Nothing will happen to Hannibal with me watching out for him."

Ardelia added, "Don't give it another thought, Clarice. I'll make sure Pearsall is running the show. I don't freaking trust that idiot detective."

Clarice shifted in her seat, joining, "Yeah, me either. If Pearsall's involved, I'd feel much better about it, but this all hinges on Hannibal. If he doesn't want to participate that's it, understood?"

"Yes," Cervelli nodded in agreement, "but he'll help my son. I know he will."

* * *

With the Cervelli's gone and Logan and Ardelia retired to their own wing for the night, Hannibal sat in his music room at his desk. Seeing Clarice's letter, Hannibal folded the paper and slipped it within the envelope along with the letter he'd written earlier. He didn't bother to read the material, as he had no real interest in the subject matter. He was certain, as she had expressed the want Clarice extended an open-ended invitation to his long-estranged aunt.

He took the letter and tucked it within pocket, deciding to post it before he changed his mind about allowing the invitation to be extended. He then left the desk and moved to the piano, focusing on a particularly dour selection.

Though Hannibal often told her the pronouncement was unnecessary, Clarice tapped on the closed door as a courtesy.

"You may enter at will, Clarice."

She opened the door but remained in the entry assuming her husband, after hearing her invitation, would be following her out of the room.

"H? The baby's asleep and Logan and Ardelia have turned in for the night."

"Of that I am fully aware, Clarice."

_Okay…that's an odd response. What's going on, H? You'd normally be racing me up the stairs and chasing me around the bed. Something's up…_

"H? Everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, why do you ask?"

"You seem…preoccupied."

"I am considering taking a ride to post the letter."

"It's been snowing all day, H. It might be pretty treacherous driving."

"I'm certain the roads are adequate to my needs."

Wanting a little more information, Clarice entered the room attempting to appear as casual as possible as she crossed the space and stood beside her husband. Smoothing her hand across his shoulders attempting to read his mood she was frustrated to find him decidedly neutral. She took another tack, attempting to shift his mindset.

"Hannibal?"

"Yes?"

_He didn't question my use of his name…what the hell is going on?_

"Anything I can do for you?"

"Go to bed, Clarice. I'll run my errand and be along eventually."

Clarice realized her husband would not be elaborating and decided to probe a bit.

"H, I'm sorry I asked you about the harpy. It's just that we've been apart a lot since we got married. I'll never get over putting that mask on your face…I don't think I'd make it if they took you away from me again. Do you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive, Clarice. I understood your concern and as you stated, you were extremely tactful. No one was the wiser for the query and as such, I am not concerned."

"Still, you shouldn't be reminded by your wife that you're…" she thought better of the comment and stopped mid-sentence.

"Reminded of what? That I am a convicted killer? Whether or not you choose to recall the events of my past, nothing is changed. I myself am not changed. I am exactly the same man you faced across the glass so many years ago."

"No, you're different."

"If it makes you sleep easier thinking I am in some way transformed, so be it, but I assure you I was not in need of rehabilitation and as such, my nature is unaltered. You are more than aware of that fact, Clarice, or you wouldn't be cross-examining me each and every time I appear agitated as to the location of my harpy. You will recall we made love in the car earlier. Returning to my son took precedence over the recovery of the harpy therefore the weapon is in the vehicle still. Now, if you'll excuse me. When I am ready to sleep I'll retire to our bed. For now, I would appreciate solitude."

Hannibal settled his hands over the keys and once more began to play.

_When you're ready to sleep? What the hell, H? Okay…make me sweat it out a little for asking you about the freaking knife, I get it… I guess I deserve it._

Seeing her husband had no intention of joining her, Clarice gently stroked the hair back from Hannibal's forehead and kissed the top of his head.

"Okay, H…you do what you have to do, I won't disturb you. I'll be in bed so you just come up when you're ready. If you go out, be careful."

"I shall endeavor to do so."

She stood quietly for a moment hoping he might kiss her, but when he turned his attention once more to the piece he was playing, Clarice took the hint and left the room. She paused in the doorway, one more opportunity for Hannibal to change his mind.

"Okay…goodnight, H."

Goodnight, Clarice."

Leaving her husband playing piano, Clarice ascended the stairs with a heavy heart.

Though Hannibal fully understood his behavior caused his wife some discomfort, he believed the minor worry he initiated was preferable to the concern she would show if she were aware of his plans.

Hannibal would visit the drug lord and make his presence known.

_You shall see my true nature, my friends…and you will be afraid._

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
LH**


	21. Chapter 21

**HIS HEARTBEAT...**

Hannibal was a man accustomed to following his instincts and tonight, his instincts led him in the direction of the Cervelli ranch. He waited scant minutes for Clarice to ascend the stairs before he put his plan into action. Projecting he wouldn't be gone more than three hours, two if luck was with him, that would allow plenty of time to return to their home before Clarice grew too suspicious of his activities. Not that he was ashamed of his plan, quite the contrary, but there was no need to worry her unduly.

_You are a warrior, Clarice…as is mine, your instinct will be to protect. You'll want to be by my side but I cannot have you with me in this. We have a son and your place now, is with our boy. _

He initially considered writing a note explaining his location, but Hannibal quickly decided against that option. He wouldn't lie about his actions but there was no sense volunteering the information, either. If Clarice wanted to know where he had been and what he had done, she would ask and he would tell her. She was aware he would be out of the home for a time. That was enough for now.

It was their son's habit now to sleep through the night, therefore Hannibal felt comfortable leaving the home. If the boy did indeed wake needing to feed, Clarice would retrieve him. Though that wasn't Hannibal's preference, it would do for tonight as he had his son's welfare in mind in this.

Hannibal Lecter treasured his time with his son and would do anything to protect his family, so with that singular thought in mind, the protective father put on a pair of rugged boots, his black leather gloves and jacket, lowered his head against the wind-whipped snow and went out to brave the elements.

The drive was replete with swirling, wind-blown powder, the raging precipitation the remnants of the storm cell overwhelming the area. Hannibal was pleased to find the roads passable for now, though he would have braved almost any conditions to reconnoiter the outbuildings commandeered by the drug dealers.

_Cervelli wished to be away from his home for the majority of the evening, so it is likely the gang has been processing their product tonight. They cannot stop what they do not see and as the snow will continue until sunrise and the winds are high…any tracks I make by foot should be immediately obliterated by the weather._

Hannibal left his car in the same remote location he'd parked earlier with Clarice and made his way through drifting, calf-deep snow. It was near eleven o'clock by the time he reached the outbuilding where by Cervelli's description, he surmised the drug den was located. Emerging from a stand of conifers, Hannibal could see several vehicles parked on a partially shoveled gravel area alongside what he surmised was the meat processing building. Pausing several seconds Hannibal committed each car and truck, license plates included, to memory. If he couldn't identify each person by name, their faces, combined with their transportation would eventually give them away.

Deciding the meat packing structure would be less populated, would give him the best vantage point, and provide the most likely cover Hannibal skirted the exterior careful to remain low. Stepping very quietly, he skimmed his shoulder along the outer wall of the building, careful to remain close and as such, unseen.

How many are you, my friends? How many days, evenings of predatory pleasure will you afford me?

Unable to spy within the building without being seen, Hannibal needed to amass as much information through his ancillary senses as possible, realizing direct sight at this point was not an option. Nostrils flaring, ears pricked, Hannibal assessed the influx of sensory input.

_Their voices are normal speaking volume, so they're not concerned about being overheard by the rancher or his family. Cervelli must not frequent this section of his property. There are several men…_

Hannibal's quiet assessment of the situation was very suddenly interrupted, as a dark Mercedes SUV now skidded recklessly across the ice-covered gravel. The vehicle's driver, in an attempt to park on the frozen surface, slid sideways across the pebbled roadway punching a massive dent into the back quarter panel of a brand new, bright red pickup truck. The deafening sound of the collision brought a quick response, the building emptying of its visitors all rushing to see which vehicle was hit.

A young, voluptuous woman, no more than nineteen or twenty climbed out of the Mercedes wearing a tightly fitted ski jacket, skin-tight trousers and a pair of furry boots. By her expression, Hannibal could see she was unambiguously unconcerned with the damage she'd just inflicted on the vehicle.

His stealth of prime importance, Hannibal moved to shield himself behind a large exterior generator, safely secreted as the members huddled around the damaged truck.

A muscular man with dark curly hair ran toward the vehicle and smoothed his hand over the damaged panel.

"Holy shit, Stella! You annihilated the hell out of that truck!"

A small, runt of a teenager limped out from the warehouse. Crest-fallen when he realized what transpired he shuffled to the truck. Staring at the damage, he whined, "Stella, what did you do? I'm telling Papa!"

The young woman leaned on the front bumper of her own car. "So go ahead and tell him, see if I care! What do you think he's going to do to me? Nothing, like he always does. All he'll do is pay to fix it, so don't cry like a little bitch!"

The young man was wiry, not very tall, walking with a protracted limp. Hannibal guessed him to be slightly older than the young woman, the pair obviously brother and sister. Upon approaching the building the girl was immediately surrounded by the men but one man in particular stepped forward. Hannibal corrected assumed this man was the leader, Chavez.

"What did you do, Stella? What the hell did you hit?"

"Just my brother's truck. He'll live. It's not like my father won't fix it. He feels so guilty the kid's a gimpy freaking moron that he totally kisses that boy's ass."

Taking the comment literally and thus horrified by the inference, Junior argued, "No he doesn't! Don't be gross!"

The muscular man turned and shoved the boy's shoulder, knocking him against the truck. "She didn't mean literally kiss your ass, you retard. It's a fucking figure of speech."

The young man responded angrily, "Don't call me a retard, Royce! That's not a nice word."

"Hey, if the shoe fits…"

The moment Junior looked down at his feet assessing the fit of his shoes, the muscular man pointed at him and laughed.

"That retard thinks I'm really talking about his shoes! Stella, you got all the looks and all the brains in your family. That kid's an idiot!"

"Yeah, no kidding. You want to try living with him. I swear he was chewing on his clothing and drooling until last year. What a freak show- it's embarrassing."

Asserting his dominance, Chavez called out to the boy, "Hey Junior, make yourself useful, go up to the house and tell your mother we're hungry."

Shaking his head to negate the order he explained, "I can't do that, it's past her bedtime so she's sleeping now. It's really late."

Chavez continued, stern in his assertion as if there would be no further discussion on the matter. He wanted food, and the Cervelli family, it was obviously assumed, would provide it.

"Well if you don't want to wake her up, then go get some food yourself and bring it back here. And don't forget a few bottles of wine."

Junior wasn't pleased. He stood in the snow beside his damaged truck and whimpered, "I don't want to drive my truck, now. It's all busted."

Royce stepped forward, palmed the young man's face, and with all the force his large arms could generate, shoved Junior hard to the ground.

The boy gasped, the wind knocked from his already compromised lungs. Sitting on the ground, soaked in slush and mud, the boy sobbed.

His protective instincts instantly engaged Hannibal lunged forward as if to move from his hiding his ground for now, Hannibal's resolve was solidified the moment the larger man bullied the boy.

_No, I can do the boy more good hidden…Royce, is it? So, my rude friend…you are the first to offer yourself? Thank you for saving me the difficulty of choosing which offensive malefactor would face the only true predator in this area. You shall meet your end in the same manner you offered the boy._

The man the boy identified as Royce, continued, "You don't want to drive a dented up truck, then fucking walk, but get back here with that food, little man or I'll choke the shit out of you for making the boss wait."

_The woman and young man are Cervelli's daughter and son, no doubt. If she is present, his claim that she…no, he never actually claimed she was hostage, only that she was in some way involved, but to what end? It would seem she has paired with the leader of this motley bunch of miscreants. So, the daughter has attracted this offensive individual and is endangering her family to secure a notorious lifestyle. It is no wonder Mr. Cervelli hid that fact. He is ashamed._

Stella crawled up Chavez's body like a snake curling around a stick. Hooking a leg around his thigh and slipping her hands around his neck, she cupped the back of his head, pulled her to him and purred seductively in his ear, "So, are you almost finished here for the night? I was getting a little lonely. I could go back to your hotel with you…"

She surged forward and with the speed of a striking cobra, captured his bottom lip between her teeth and tugging, she scandalously grinded against his groin.

Kissing Stella without restraint, Chavez clutched the woman's bottom, lifting her. She shamelessly wrapped her legs around his body, locking her ankles at the small of his back, riding up and down simulating the sex act as she moaned with wonton abandon. The man groaned as she moved erotically against his body, his friends watching with mouths agape and hands massaging their groins. The boy in the mud covered his eyes in obvious embarrassment.

_A particularly grotesque display, but I should thank you for the distraction, my dear._

Seeing the men were preoccupied with the carnally charged scene the young woman was creating, Hannibal took advantage of the distraction slipping through the open door. He moved quickly through the larger room into the smaller attached building. Climbing a roughly hewn timber ladder to reach the loft, there, in the dark, Hannibal Lecter closed his eyes and lay in wait.

An hour passed before the opportunity he was seeking presented itself.

Hannibal, sitting cross-legged atop the loft had spent the last hour considering a series of Madonna and child images. Enjoying the classical structure of such an iconic composition, he hoped Clarice might agree to sit for him with their son. Not a vain woman, Hannibal believed she might protest and although he trusted he could create an adequate likeness from memory alone, he longed for the intimacy of a portrait sitting.

_You are the epitome of love, the object of my adoration and the immaculate image of motherhood, my Love. Forgive me for my distance, as it was my way of protecting you from all of this._

Men had come and gone over the last sixty minutes, but Hannibal's target had not. His attention shifted quickly when once more, the light turned on in the room. Catching the scent he was seeking, moving rapidly from a seated position to a prone state, Hannibal crawled stealthily to the very edge of the loft, peeking over the brink to confirm his suspicion.

_Ah, there you are my muscular friend. I see you finally entered my web?_

Leaning over the border, Hannibal lowered a noose he'd fashioned from a thick metal cable, dangling it just behind the man's head. He then tossed a small object to make the man turn into the noose.

"What the…"

As Royce turned, Hannibal lassoed the head and yanked with all haste.

Two words, the man could manage only two words before Hannibal wrenched the cable and quickly dropped to the ground. With the cord wrapped around his forearm and the wire looped over a pulley, with minimal effort Hannibal was able to tug the cable taut, cutting off not only the man's words, but the majority of his air supply, as well.

_Well hello, my offensive friend. Quite surprised by my presence, are you?_

The advantage of surprise allowed Hannibal to spin Royce's body, now suspended just inches above the ground, and effectively whip the wire around the man's body, binding him fully.

As the doomed gangster twisted and spun inches above the ground within the cabled cocoon, thrashing in a desperate attempt at freedom, Hannibal growled in his ear, "You are Royce, I take it? Allow me to introduce myself, Hannibal Lecter."

Royce's eyes flashed panic upon hearing the name, clearly understanding that his life was in serious jeopardy. Like a lion stalking his prey, Hannibal tied off the loose end of the cable and continued to circle. A flash of sadistic inspiration caused Hannibal to palm the man's face, as Royce had to the boy, and shove it hard to the left causing the man to begin spinning uncontrollably. The dizzying effect caused the man's oxygen deprived body to spasm violently signaling the beginning throes of death.

Understanding the man had but moments to live, Hannibal orbited now in the opposite direction, hissing in the man's ear, "You enjoy picking on those whom you perceive as weaker than yourself? I am much smaller in stature, yet I handled you with ease. What was it you promised young Mr. Cervelli? That you would, as you put it so colorfully, choke the shit out of him? I wonder, now that you are choking, perhaps the same may occur for you?"

Footsteps in the area alerted Hannibal that his time with his prey should come to an end. Hannibal's hand shot out, grasping the man by his throat, clutching at his neck as the man choked out his last. Leaning in eye-to-eye, as the orbs bulged from their sockets, Hannibal snarled, "I would say go with God, my friend, but in your case, it would be, in your own words, a fucking figure of speech as that is not the direction in which your doomed soul will travel."

Reaching into his pocket, Hannibal withdrew one of the small skeletons representing San La Muerta that Mr. Cervelli had affixed to his fence. Wrapping it around the man's neck, Hannibal allowed himself the luxury of watching the light of life leave the man's eyes. He tested the man's pulse and when he was certain Royce was dead and with plenty of time to spare, Hannibal quickly exited the building using a back door, undetected.

His job done, Hannibal was able to mail the letter and drive home before the man's partners in crime even realized he was missing.

* * *

Slipping into bed, Hannibal curled his body alongside his sleeping wife. His presence waking her, Clarice reached back and gently stroked her husband's thigh.

"Everything okay, H?"

Hannibal brushed her hair to the side and began to kiss her shoulders.

"Yes Clarice. Everything is fine."

"Can we talk for a minute, or are you too tired from…whatever."

_From whatever? My brilliant Clarice…you know, don't you? _

"If you desire a conversation, I'd be all too happy to oblige."

Clarice turned within his embrace, Hannibal immediately drawing her close.

"What I said earlier? About you being different now?"

"Yes, my Love?"

"I didn't mean that you'd become a different person or that I wanted you to be different. I meant that you were more relaxed…more at ease with yourself and with me. I don't want you to think I've been trying to change you or that I wish you were different."

"Understood."

"Did you mail the letter?"

"Yes."

"Is that all you did?"

"No. Shall I elaborate?"

"Do you have any injuries?"

"No, I'm unharmed."

"Then, no. You're home and you're safe. That's all I care about."

Hannibal smiled, rolling onto his back, pulling Clarice close.

"You are quite certain you don't wish me to expound?"

Clarice rested her head on his chest and spoke softly, "No, H. Not unless there's something you need to tell me."

Hannibal's hands smoothed over his wife's bare form as he spoke quietly, "While I thank you for your concern, I have no such need."

With the slightest tension in her voice, Clarice questioned, "Did you bring home anything…wet?"

Realizing she understood what he had been up to, Hannibal chuckled, "No Clarice. I left the individual very much the way I found him with one exception..."

"His heartbeat..."

Kissing the top of his wife's head, Hannibal didn't answer the question, not because he didn't want to, but because he understood it to be rhetorical.

_Clever girl!_

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	22. Chapter 22

**PANIC**

Hannibal woke early and prepared breakfast, setting it out before his planned morning of what he called errands. His last task before rushing out the door was to prepare his son's first introduction to solid food by cooking a small amount of rice cereal with warmed breast milk, adding mashed banana for flavor.

Presenting it to Clarice in a tiny crystal bowl complete with a silver baby spoon, he proudly announced, "I'll be out for several hours, my Love. Our son should begin eating something more substantial so I've prepared a very mild cereal. Being that he naturally thinks of you as the provider of sustenance I thought you might enjoy being the parent who introduces his first foray into solid foods."

Clarice placed the baby in his highchair, secured him and stepped back, not at all convinced she knew what to do.

Seeing her unease, Hannibal moved beside Clarice and lightly stroked the fingers of his left hand down the length of his wife's spine. He stepped forward and with his right arm, encircled her waist, resting his hand on her abdomen as he pulled her to him.

Clarice arched her back, dropping her head backward onto her husband's chest, exposing her neck to him. Hannibal gladly accepted the invitation by clamping his mouth over her throat, sucking gently as he moved his hand firmly from her back, over the crest of her hip, palming her abdomen. His eyes remained open to assure himself of his son's safety.

Reaching back with both hands to grip Hannibal's thighs, Clarice pulled her husband close, rocking against him. The motion of her body rubbing against his caused a low growl to roll in the back of his throat. He allowed himself just another moment to enjoy the tapping of her pulse against his lips, and the grinding of her bottom against his groin until with much regret Hannibal whispered, his voice husky in her ear, "Is that your attempt to keep me here, Clarice? If so, it is quite effective."

"No...Maybe…I guess I'm just stalling for time,H. I've never fed a baby with a spoon. What…what do I do if he chokes?"

Hannibal placed several light kisses in various spots on the side of his wife's face, the final one on her lips lasted for just a moment. He gripped her hips firmly, turned her into his embrace and using his index finger to tidy an errant lock, Hannibal moved the hair away from Clarice's face. There was tension in her eyes; she was genuinely concerned she might do something wrong and hurt the baby. Hannibal kissed her cheek, seeking to ease her mind.

His voice was gentle, consoling as he urged, "There really isn't anything you can do wrong, Clarice. It is much more likely he will spit the majority of the food out. Babies have a reflex that pushes their tongue forward as they feed. As you serve his breakfast he'll move his tongue much the way he does as he suckles. This motion will in all probability push the majority of the food out of his mouth."

That thought didn't comfort Clarice either. She'd gotten a handle on breastfeeding and that was no easy task. This seemed equally daunting, the frustration obvious in her tone as she questioned, "Great, then what do I do?"

"Continue to feed him, and as he detects the flavors he'll attempt to adjust the movement of his tongue. It is trial and error for young Hannibal as much as it is for you, Clarice. Shall I demonstrate?"

Clarice rested her head on his chest, her relief evident as she spoke, "Would you, H? I know it seems stupid, but I've never even _seen_ someone feed a baby. I'd feel more secure in the process if you'd give me a quick demo."

Smiling as if he'd wanted to do it all along but deferred to his wife not to deny her the experience, Hannibal replied gladly, "If that is your wish, I would be all too happy."

Clarice moved to the side quickly and allowed Hannibal to take the seat directly across from the baby, sitting contently in his highchair. She hurriedly reached into the hip pocket of her jeans, removed her cell phone, and began shooting video of the scene as Hannibal dipped the bowl of the tiny silver spoon into the crystal dish. Ladling away from his body, Hannibal scooped a small amount of cereal and presented the spoonful in front of his son. He paused, allowing the baby to assess the process.

"Would you like a bit of cereal? I've added some fresh banana to make the meal somewhat more palatable. I'm sorry it isn't as tempting as the lovely meal your mother presents you, but it is time to begin your passage from babyhood to boyhood. Shall we all take the journey together, my son?"

Hannibal took a deep breath and began blowing, Clarice presumed, to cool the food. He then waited a moment, watching his son.

"Shall we try once more, Little One? Are you ready? Pay attention now."

Hannibal repeated the process, his son responding by gripping the edges of the highchair's tray, leaning slightly forward as his bright blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Clarice was confused, steadying the phone to capture the baby's first meal, she found herself watching her husband more than her son.

_What the heck is he doing? How hot did he make that freaking cereal that he's got to keep blowing on it? If it's that hot I guess it's lucky I didn't feed him or I probably would have burned the little guy._

As her husband continued Clarice wondered why the continual blowing until she noticed her son's nostrils flaring as Hannibal gently winded across the bowl of the spoon.

_He isn't cooling the cereal he's encouraging the baby to smell the food. H, you are so brilliant, training him to use all of his senses so young._

Finally, Hannibal moved the spoon to his son's mouth, teasing the baby's bottom lip with the tip of the tiny utensil.

"Apri la bocca, mio figlio."

It was obvious the baby understood his father because he immediately opened his mouth and accepted the spoonful of food.

Pleasantly surprised, Clarice questioned, "You've been teaching the baby Italian, H?"

"And Lithuanian. French will come later."

As the baby tasted the food his tongue popped forward pushing the majority of the food back out of his mouth. With the dexterity of a man who'd obviously fed a child many, many times before, Hannibal swiped the spoon under and around the baby's mouth, gathered the excess and slipped it once more between his son's lips. The baby seemed to be learning quickly, keeping more of the food on the second pass.

Clarice wondered how many meals her husband had fed his baby sister, the motion so natural it was obviously well practiced. Leaving that thought for another day, Clarice continued, "So many languages?"

"Our son is a citizen of the world. The planet has become much smaller with the ability to travel extensively and the evolution of the Internet. Knowledge is power, Clarice."

"Well, it's obvious you'll be a great teacher."

"One tries, my Love."

When Hannibal was certain his son understood the process he stood from the chair and handed his wife the bowl of food. Clarice quickly put the phone away and accepted the task now confident she could complete the meal without hurting the baby.

"Thanks, H. I think I can handle it from here."

"I shall be with Logan the early part of the day. When we've tended to his brief task I'll drop him off and take care of an errand or two of my own. Would that be acceptable, Clarice?"

"Sure, H. You do what you have to do. What's the errand with Logan?"

"He is in the market for a ring and would like some advice, so he's asked that I accompany him."

"Engagement ring?"

"Yes. I shall take him into town and introduce him to our jeweler. It would be best Logan were not perceived as a tourist. When he's made his choice I'll return him to the home, and run my own errands."

Teasing, Clarice urged, "You sure you don't want to take him along with you for the entire afternoon?"

Hannibal winked at Clarice, answering with no small measure of sarcasm.

"As much as the offer is tempting, thank you, no. While I am more than happy to assist him with such an important duty, I value my time alone and have had very little of it as of late. No, I'll be returning your friend to you, Clarice, so, I wish you good luck with that."

"No worries, H…you take enough hits for me. I'll entertain him for the rest of the day. You get through the ring thing then go about your business. You deserve a bit of time to yourself."

Hannibal bent to his wife, kissing her tenderly.

"Thank you, Clarice. I promise not to be too long."

"Sure, H…whatever you need to do, you know that."

"Yes, my Love. I know."

Clarice decided it would be best not to pursue the discussion. Her husband would be busy protecting his family and she knew he really didn't need to drag around her emotional baggage as he tended to his family's needs. He would sense her worry in any event, so there was not much sense voicing those concerns.

Knowing that she trusted him to handle the situation, Hannibal would have a clear mind. If he were worried about Clarice, his decisions might be affected. No, he would handle this in whatever fashion he saw fit. Hannibal had dispatched one of what she imagined might be seven or eight men. She knew he'd be awake early every morning and out the door, returning with information to lead him to another man, or the knowledge that he had completed one more task. This would simply be the first of many such mornings, and she would need to get used to that fact.

* * *

With Logan and Hannibal out running errands and Clarice busy with the baby, Ardelia had spent the morning on Hannibal's computer sending messages back and forth to Pearsall. After coming to several conclusions, she sought out Clarice, waiting for her to put the baby down for his midday nap.

The consensus was that it was time for Ardelia and Logan to return to Washington. They would discuss the situation with the powers that be at Quantico and see what assistance, if any, would be offered. Pearsall was going to arrange meetings with the State Department and try to play up the threat-to-national-security angle.

"So, did you get in touch with Pearsall?"

"Yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Pearsall wants Logan and me back a little earlier than we'd arranged in order to go over the plan to deal with the Cervelli situation. I'm a little worried though."

"Why? What's there to worry about? H has a handle on everything."

Although she knew it was the only constructive way she might be able to help, Ardelia was feeling a bit conflicted and not shy about voicing her concerns she probed, "Are you sure it's safe, us leaving now, Clarice?"

Not at all worried, Clarice reassured, "Sure, Dee, don't worry about us. Hannibal's always careful and the compound is really secure. If anyone finds the property and breaches the gates or fences, the cameras will give me enough warning to either get away, or secure the baby and hide."

Still apprehensive, Ardelia persisted, "How can you secure the baby and hide? If someone gets in, they'll cover every inch of the house until they find you. It's not like a closet is going to keep you safe from a freaking deranged drug dealer."

"Sure, I can just go hide in the shelter."

"The what?"

"Didn't I ever show you the shelter? H had it put in while we were in Baltimore about the same time he upgraded the security system."

"No, you're kidding! What? Like a bomb shelter or something?"

Clarice waved excitedly as she tugged Ardelia by the arm from the family room through the dining room and kitchen, toward the pantry.

"More like a panic room, although the way H had it built, it probably would stand up to a bomb. It's really well made and really well hidden. Come on. I'll show you."

Clarice led Ardelia through the kitchen to the pantry. Moving to the back of the storage area, Clarice opened a cabinet with a series of switches that appeared to be circuit breakers. She flipped them in a very specific pattern.

"It's kind of a combination lock. If you don't flip them in exactly the right way, it won't open."

"What won't open?"

"The wall."

"The wall? Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. Watch."

Clarice flipped the final switch causing the wall move forward and open smoothly. As the wall opened, a room was revealed. Clarice stepped in, Ardelia closely following.

"I can't believe he had this built! It's incredible!"

"It wasn't here when he bought the house, but when we had that situation with Nico, H called a contractor and had it put in. Pretty smart, all things considered."

"Well, I've never known Hannibal to do anything that wasn't well thought out. Does the house in Baltimore have a panic room?"

"Not yet, but he's been working with a contractor to make plans. The zoning here isn't as stringent for the interior of the home. The exterior is the big deal, here. In Baltimore, everything has to have a freaking permit, or a variance, especially if your name is Hannibal Lecter."

Ardelia wandered around the space, impressed with the attention to detail. Suddenly she had a thought and as was her habit with Clarice, she voiced her thought without censor, "Do you ever regret taking his name? Having him come out of hiding?"

Surprised, Clarice looked up, responding vehemently, "No._ Never._"

Ardelia ran her finger along the spines of the books lined neatly on the shelf, "Never? What about when your son goes to school? He's got the same freaking name, Clarice."

Clarice was confident as she spoke, "I'm not sure we're sending him to school."

"What? Of course you've got to send him to school."

"Why? So kids can give him crap about his name or who his father is? Nope. I'm thinking we'll home school him. I've never met a teacher as smart as H and that's no dig on the educational system. Hannibal's just a singular man. I doubt there's anyone alive as intelligent as he or as motivated to educate Dev. Hannibal had a private tutor. No, if he agrees with me, H will teach our son."

Ardelia walked around the hidden room. It was actually more like a series of rooms. It ran directly behind the kitchen, seemingly traveling partially behind the family room, as well. There was a food preparation area with a microwave, cooktop and refrigerator. The center island had a sink and grill, with a long marble countertop surrounded by chairs.

Past the kitchenette, the living space had a large bed, a couch and oversized chair and a crib for the baby. It was an efficient and elegant area- quite homey, in fact. Ardelia was impressed.

"Wow, Clarice, this is nicer than the duplex. What about a bathroom?"

"It's just on the other side of that wall. It's a walk-in shower, sink and toilet."

"You could live back here and no one would ever know you were here."

"Yeah, that's the idea."

Clarice and Ardelia, returned to the main body of the home. As Clarice secured the hidden room, she had no way of knowing just how quickly she would return to this panel. The next time that panel would be closed, she would indeed pray that no one knew the room was there…the life of her child would depend on it.

**Until the next chapter, my friends! **

**LH**


	23. Chapter 23

**HANNIBAL PLANS**

Deciding it would be best to offer help only if asked, Hannibal stood quietly beside Logan as the jeweler placed a black velvet tray with several selections on the glass countertop in front of them. Not wanting to skew the decision Hannibal lifted the rings one by one holding each piece up to the light, replacing them without commenting. Finding the choices, to his taste, lacking, he quietly returned the last of the rings to the velvet tray. Standing with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, he waited for Logan, currently rocking back and forth on his heels with his fists stuffed in his pockets, sporting an expression of total confusion.

Seeing the younger man had no intention of making a move any time soon, Hannibal spoke first, "Do you have any thoughts, Logan?"

Turning to Hannibal, Logan, with no small measure of panic in his voice, blurted, "Well…I know she likes the round ones and she hates gold, but that's about all I've got. I want something really big, though. What do you think I should do, Doc? I'm totally drowning here. You're totally my wingman...I need your advice really badly."

_Wingman? How droll._

Seeing Logan's desperation Hannibal responded with what his brilliant mind quickly rationalized would be an appropriately supportive emotional response to the situation. Hannibal released his clasped grip, reached up and placed a consoling hand on Logan's shoulder. Patting lightly, he added, "Not to worry, that's actually much more information than I expected you might bring to the situation. Equipped with that knowledge we will most assuredly make the correct selection."

Logan exaggeratedly exhaled, speaking with his released breath, "Thanks…that makes me feel better, it really does."

Glad to have a reason to remove his hand from Logan, Hannibal reached toward the counter and very slowly pushed the small tray of rings across the glass in the direction of the jeweler. Having decided none of the rings presented for their consideration were at all suitable to their needs, speaking with confidence Hannibal addressed the jeweler and outlined the amended criteria.

"We would like a round stone, D grade, ideal cut, flawless, which I would like to verify under magnification, and we will be considering fluorescence. Platinum is preferable though white gold is also acceptable."

Understanding the revised standards, the jeweler returned the tray to the case. Placing his predatory hands on the glass countertop, hairy fingers bent like the legs of a tarantula beneath the weight of his arms, he spoke his greed with an eager intonation that affirmed his voracity, "Does the gentleman have a size preference? I believe the young groom mentioned the desire for a large stone? Something in excess of eight or ten carats is _sure_ to impress."

Not wanting Logan to be taken advantage of, Hannibal didn't wait for his input, instead responding astutely, "We will only consider center stones in the four to five carat range."

Disappointed, the dubious man responded, "Very good, Doctor Lecter. I do have a selection of rings that fit those very guidelines. If you'll both please excuse me, I'll be but a moment."

Logan's eyebrows were knitted together in obvious confusion. He desperately wanted to interject but didn't want to disrespect Hannibal's input. Instead, he waited, tapping his foot impatiently for the jeweler to leave. When he was certain the man was no longer in earshot, Logan clamored, "But I wanted something _really big_ to show Ardelia how much I love her. You know, like_ he_ said, maybe eight or ten carats. Isn't that better? Wouldn't she like that much more?"

"Logan, he is not offering you advice for your benefit. You must keep in mind, the gentleman wishes to maximize his profit."

"Yeah…but…a big ring shows I love her a lot, don't you think?"

"Bigger is not always better, Logan. You must consider the fact that Ardelia not a large girl. Her hands are quite petite, therefore anything above four or five carats would appear both garish and gauche."

Not expecting Hannibal to disagree, Logan was even more confused as he muttered, "Garish? Gauche? What do you mean?"

"Meaning a ring that large on Ardelia's hand, considering especially that she is an active FBI agent, would be showy in an especially vulgar way and that is not at all Ardelia."

Logan stood in front of the display case considering Hannibal's statement, "Yeah, I guess you're right about that. That's why I wanted your opinion; because Dee's always talking about what great things you buy for Clarice. She'd probably hate what I picked out. When it comes to girl-type things, I'm totally clueless."

Hannibal didn't appreciate the implication.

"_Girl-type things?_ Are you inferring that I am in some way less masculine because I have knowledge in an area that you yourself do not possess?"

"No…oh my god, dude, no. I totally didn't call you …I didn't mean you were…I'm not saying you're like, less of a man or anything. I just mean…crap. I know you totally want to kick my ass right now but I just… I just worded that the wrong way. Sorry, Doc. I'm an idiot. No offense."

"None taken."

Hannibal blinked once, shifting his attention from Logan to the jeweler now retrieving a tray of rings from the safe in the next room.

Seeing Hannibal's immediate disengagement, Logan pursued, "I just meant to say, I have no clue what makes Ardelia happy and you're the man when it comes to pleasing a woman. Clarice tells Ardelia how awesome you are so constantly that it makes me look totally lame. Seriously, Doc, I'm freaking desperate."

Hannibal cringed. Not being the type of man to coddle or console, absolutely writhing with the discomfort of feigning this level of friendship Hannibal wrested with the proper wording. He didn't wish to offend Logan, but cosseting was not exactly Hannibal's strong suit.

"You shouldn't worry. Trust when I say that you will appear anything but lame. Since ultimately you shall be choosing the ring, Ardelia will think quite highly of you. I am merely helping with the parameters. Whatever your selection, your future wife will be thrilled."

The jeweler returned with a tray and set it in front of Logan. He then very quietly placed a magnifying eyepiece in front of Hannibal.

"Gentlemen, I'm certain you will find the perfect ring from this selection. These are the finest pieces in the shop, truly exceptional."

Hannibal immediately reached for a ring with four-carat circular stone surrounded by alternating diamonds and emeralds. He placed the eyepiece and closely assessed the quality.

"This is a magnificent stone, Logan. Were I to choose, it would be this piece."

Logan cautiously lifted the ring from Hannibal's fingers and holding it to the light, turned it from side to side to watch the light play through the facets.

"It's got a lot of sparkle to it. I like it, I really do. I think it's perfect."

Seeing the twinkle in Logan's eyes, and knowing the price tag he'd placed on the piece, the jeweler's eyes glimmered as well. Hannibal, seeing the avarice moved quickly to head off any input from Logan that might harm his own bargaining position.

Reaching into his wallet, Hannibal took out his Centurion card. Holding it in his left hand he began tapping it on the glass garnering the jeweler's full attention.

"As we are not tourists but are instead your neighbors I propose we pay sixty percent of the listed price. If you accept that offer, the ring leaves with us. A penny more, and my friend takes his business elsewhere."

The jeweler, knowing his markup was excessive and that Hannibal, a very regular customer, was indeed serious, shook the good doctor's hand with his own right as he reached for the card with his left.

"Sixty percent is more than fair for a customer as dedicated as yourself, Doctor."

Smiling widely, Logan was engrossed with the ring until he suddenly turned to Hannibal and noticed the jeweler processing the credit card payment.

"Hey, Doc, I don't want you to pay for this. Really, I brought money with me."

With a discerning glint in his eye, Hannibal tilted the small velvet box to reveal the tiny tag attached to the bottom of the case. When he was certain by Logan's dumbstruck expression that the younger man had seen the price of the ring, Hannibal addressed discreetly, "Unless you have the cash in your pockets and not your wallet, and unless your pockets extend the full length of your leg it is doubtful you have enough cash on hand to cover that price, or is that an erroneous assumption?"

Straining his eyes to count the zeros at the end of the price tag, Logan's eyes widened. Incredulous, he reacted, "No…you're right I don't have anywhere near that much money on me. But it's my responsibility to buy the ring, so I don't want you to foot the bill for long. I might not have the cash on me, but I can get the money out of the bank and pay you back. I mean, I had absolutely _no_ _idea _diamonds cost that much money."

"I thought not. Not to worry, I can more than cover the cost for now. We can settle up at a later date."

Now realizing the worth, almost afraid to handle the piece Logan offered the ring to Hannibal.

"Seriously, I had absolutely no idea diamonds _cost_ that much."

Without the undue concern shown by Logan, Hannibal deftly placed the overpriced object in the box and handed it to the jeweler.

"It is because it is a flawless gem, much like Ardelia, yes?"

With a faraway look in his eyes as he imagined his bride, the prospective groom gushed, "Yeah...she's perfect. Just perfect."

Logan leaned casually on the counter as the jeweler busied himself placing the ring in a small box. The moment Hannibal signed the receipt using his immaculate copperplate, the jeweler placed the box in a tiny gift bag, offering it to Hannibal.

With a quick shift of his eyes, Hannibal indicated the bag should be handed it to the prospective groom. Embarrassed at the faux pas, the jeweler was effusive in his congratulations.

"Please accept my best wishes on your upcoming wedding. I'm certain a man of your distinction has chosen an absolutely lovely lady. Your future bride will no doubt be more than happy with your extremely generous and finely considered purchase."

Logan beamed, his smile brightening the room.

"Thanks…she's really incredible. I'm a lucky guy." Smiling widely, Logan discussed the woman with whom he was obviously very much in love with a man who was doing a fairly sub-par job faking interest.

Oblivious to the man's poorly shielded indifference, Logan pulled out his wallet and slipped a picture from the billfold, beaming, "See, here's a picture of her. Dude, she's gorgeous, but more important than that, she's a hell of a lot smarter than I am. I'm totally lucky she fell for me."

Barely attending the photograph the jeweler nodded. With the transaction complete his impatience was only somewhat secreted as he rejoined, "She is indeed a very handsome woman. You're quite a fortunate man indeed."

"Yeah, absolutely. Ardelia's priceless. I mean, she puts up with me and I'm a totally acquired taste, so she really deserves this."

"Of that I'm certain. My best wishes. Thank you for your patronage."

Hannibal took the salutation to facilitate their exit, shaking the jeweler's hand and pausing for Logan to do the same. They left the shop, Hannibal leading and Logan, as always, following.

* * *

The walk to the car would be uncharacteristically leisurely. Not suffering Logan's extended company well, Hannibal might normally have been in a bit of a hurry. Presently he was additionally occupied scanning the area for any sign of the vehicles he'd seen on the Cervelli property. Twice on the initial ride into town he'd thought he might have caught sight of a white pickup truck he'd seen that night at the ranch. Knowing one of the gang members might be accessible, Hannibal was vigilant.

Happy with his purchase and even more thrilled to have had Hannibal's input, Logan bounced along eagerly beside his hero, effusing, "Thanks so much for backing me up and helping me today. I totally would have screwed this up, big time if you hadn't agreed to come along and give me such great advice."

Ignoring the younger man's incessant excitement, Hannibal responded calmly, "Not at all, Logan. You are quite welcome. Thank you for allowing me to assist your purchase to expedite your engagement. It would of course be best to propose before you return to Washington."

Logan was practically circling Hannibal as they walked side-by-side to the car. Excited, he questioned, "Why? What difference does it make?"

The pair reached the car, Hannibal unlocking the Bentley as he answered, "Ardelia and Clarice are best friends, yes?"

Standing beside the open car door, Logan looked perplexed.

"Yeah, so?"

Not waiting for Logan to enter the car, Hannibal walked to the opposite side of the vehicle and opened his door. Speaking across the top of the vehicle, Hannibal explained, "They are best friends and as such are quite close. One might conclude based on that information, Ardelia will be excited to be engaged and as such, she might like to show Clarice the ring and share the story of your proposal. That would be impossible if you were to return to Washington prior to asking."

Hannibal entered the car, leaving Logan standing beside the vehicle considering the ramifications of Hannibal's comment. Therefore, when Hannibal mentioned that there might be some grand story to be shared in reference to the proposal, Logan appeared puzzled.

Seeing the clouded expression on Logan's face, Hannibal leaned across the interior of the vehicle and called out to Logan,"You have something planned, have you not?"

Crestfallen, Logan lowered his head, leaned into the car and plopped himself onto his seat. Dejected, he pulled the car door closed and sat for a moment. Slowly his head dropped until his chin touched his chest. Speaking just above a deflated whisper he responded, "I gotta be honest, I was just gonna go back to the house, get down on one knee and ask her."

Hannibal turned to Logan, shifting his body to face the now distraught potential groom.

"What? No, Logan. That is not at all acceptable. Do you have the permission of her father to ask for Ardelia's hand in marriage? Have you received his blessing?"

His once puffed pride now fully deflated, Logan shook his head and mumbled,"I didn't know I should ask. Is it too late? Should I call him?"

"It isn't too late and it is absolutely advisable that you ask as soon as possible. Ardelia's family is really very traditional. It would seem disrespectful if you were to propose to her without first requesting permission from her parents. Her father especially."

"You're right. I'll call him when we get back. What else should I do?"

Hannibal started the car and began the drive home.

"You'll need to put some effort in planning the proposal."

"Did you do that with Clarice? When did you ask her?"

"The majority of my planning went to arranging to see her. I was forced to propose rather informally the evening we were reunited."

"It's not like you to rush things, so I'm kind of surprised by that."

Hannibal's eyes shifted. Thinking he saw a flash of a license plate, he turned down a road that would bring him further, rather than closer to home. His eyes scanned the streets ahead for the truck that had been unintentionally eluding him all afternoon. Hannibal explained the circumstances of his rushed proposal to Clarice even as he planned what he might do if he encountered the man in the vehicle while still in the presence of Logan.

"You must understand, I was rather pressed for time. Had I not been able to convince Clarice of the serious nature of my intent I would never have seen her again, thus I was forced to put my cards on the table. It is something I regret and have spent every moment of our marriage attempting to make that haste up to her."

"Yeah, you're really traditional, so I'm sure that drives you crazy."

"The start of my relationship with Clarice was and is anything but traditional but thankfully my wife does not hold that fact against me."

"Clarice is awesome."

"Yes. Yes, she is."

Hannibal's eyes quickly flashed molten maroon at the moment of recognition. Spotting the truck pulling into an area Hannibal recognized as selling building materials, the good doctor quickly processed the distance home. Assessing the speed he would travel and the fact that it would take a few moments to encourage Logan to exit the vehicle without drawing overt suspicion, Hannibal believed he would be able to drop Logan at the house, and, if expeditious, return in time to shadow the vehicle. The return drive would provide him the necessary time to come up with a strategy to dispatch the driver.

As Logan babbled incessantly, Hannibal planned.

**Until the next chapter, my friends, **

**LH **


	24. Chapter 24

**PROTECTING HANNIBAL**

Hannibal made a fourth, and what he hoped might be a final turn down the street where the building supply store was located. He wasn't pleased to be as far off track as this but he had to be certain the truck was pulling into the lot he'd predicted. It was Hannibal's intention to confirm his beliefs and return Logan to the Lecter compound as quickly as possible so as not to raise suspicion, but all thought of that was beginning to fade. This crucial reconnaissance was requiring more turns than Hannibal hoped would be necessary, but, rather than give up he continued to pursue, not knowing when another opportunity might present itself.

_From his military training and current body language he likely knows there is something amiss. No matter. It is far more important to secure the location of this individual before leaving the area. If he is purchasing building materials, there is a chance he is working on an exterior project. It would be much more practical to attack the wretch after isolating him from his family, assuming the wedding band on his hand indicates he does not live alone._

Appearing sedate, Hannibal was anything but as his brilliant mind began running risk adverse assessments, unconcerned that Logan was, at this point, most definitely questioning the rapid changes in direction. The good doctor was more than aware that as a highly trained Marine Corp scout sniper, more than most men, Logan would be very much aware of his geographic location. He would realize the additional turns were taking him from the direction of the compound, but Hannibal doubted Logan would have the nerve to mention that fact aloud.

That was before Logan spoke.

"Doc?"

Though his outward appearance remained unchanged, Hannibal's nerves rankled. Breathing deeply, Hannibal braced himself as he returned, "Yes, Logan?"

The younger man began to turn in his seat, looking out each of the windows not only to the road behind and ahead, but up, too, at the sky. The moment he finally righted himself he turned to Hannibal with a quizzical expression, asking in a serious tone, "Did I miss a couple of detour signs?"

Maddened that he was being indirectly asked to explain himself, the response from Hannibal was exceptionally neutral and exceedingly brief.

"No."

Again, Logan spun in his seat, assessing the location.

"Okay…but we're traveling southwest?" The questioning tone in his voice illustrated not his confusion with the direction, of that he was certain, but of his bewilderment at the why of it all.

Even though he knew it would further distress Logan, Hannibal's response was brief simply stating, "Yes."

This tacit explanation would do nothing to alleviate Logan's disquiet.

"Your compound is southeast from this point."

"Yes, Logan, I am aware of that fact."

Seeing no reason to conceal his intentions, but additionally no reason to explain himself, Hannibal didn't speak directly to the question that although it burned on Logan's tongue, he had yet to ask. Instead Hannibal focused all of his attention on the behavior of the man that had parked his vehicle and was now exiting the truck.

The younger man watched his mentor with knowing eyes. If Hannibal wouldn't volunteer information, Logan would extrapolate based on the evidence Hannibal couldn't avoid providing.

Exceptionally familiar recognizing lines of sight, Logan immediately determined that Hannibal was actively watching the man exiting the white pick-up truck. Realizing this was information Hannibal was making no effort to hide but wasn't openly announcing, Logan decided it would be better to make no mention, instead babbling happily along about his future wife and how excited she would be when he went home and asked her to marry him.

Finally, when Hannibal had had just about enough talk, he uttered two words that, when combined with the icy tone, practically stopped Logan's heart.

"Logan, please."

_He's getting angry? Why? Okay, it doesn't really matter why; I pissed him off so I'll just apologize. He probably already thinks I'm stupid, no sense making him think I'm rude, too. I'll say I'm sorry and shut the hell up._

"Sorry, Doc…I just thought…"

"Your thoughts are not necessary, Logan."

Logan paused. Hannibal asked him to stop speaking.

Not a good sign.

A few minutes passed. Practically the poster child for A.D.H.D, Logan couldn't force himself to sit still any longer. He decided to call Hannibal on what was obviously surveillance. It might get Hannibal angry, but Logan didn't see a reason not to offer his assistance.

_Maybe I can do something…help in some way._

"I know a stakeout when I see one, and…well, I'm not saying you're up to something, but…what are you up to, Doc?"

Knowing it mattered little what Logan knew or didn't know, and believing keeping him in the dark would generate additional queries, Hannibal concluded honesty would be best.

"I believe I've spotted a person that poses a threat to my family, therefore I was circling the area in order to confirm that belief. The individual in question is near, therefore, I've been watching."

"So the dude leaving the white pick-up truck is one of the drug gang members? Are you sure? I mean, how do you know?"

"I memorized the license plates the night I visited the ranch and am also absolutely certain it is one of the men because I concealed myself for just over an hour in an area adjacent to where they were processing their product. I spent quite a lot of time watching the men come and go. This man seems to have been a body guard of sorts."

"So this dude's the hired muscle? Are you going to take him out?"

"Not at this time. Excuse me, I'll be but a moment."

Hannibal slipped out of vehicle and took a wide path to the man's car. After a moment, he was able to gain access to the truck. Moving into the front seat, Hannibal searched the cab for any sign of the man's address. Finding a small bundle of mail on the opposite seat Hannibal read the address, instantly committing it to memory. He moved from the truck just in time to see the man returning with several large bags, heavy with items.

Returning to the Bentley, Hannibal started the car and began the drive home.

Logan was confused, asking, "You're not going to follow him home?"

"It was my intention to return to this area after bringing you to the compound, but that won't be necessary; I know where he lives."

"Okay, so we track him down at this house. That's probably a better idea anyway. There are too many witnesses here."

"You won't be joining me, Logan. As cautious as I am, there will be contingencies for which I cannot fully account. You will be marrying soon. I wouldn't want to put you at risk."

The moment Hannibal left the town limits, heading out on the open roads now in the direction of his property, he tested the handling of the Bentley its speed comfortably exceeding ninety. Not only did he enjoy the handling of the car at higher speeds but was anxious to leave Logan in the company of Ardelia and Clarice. Having already reached the limits of obligatory friendship, he found himself accelerating the vehicle to accelerate the process.

The thought that he might need to be protected from such action bothered Logan.

"Dude, I'm an ex-Marine and an FBI sniper. _I get paid to kill people. _If I can fire off a round at the head of someoneI have no connection to at all and I sleep like a baby at night without a problem, don't you think I'd love to help. If there's someone that's a danger to Clarice and little man, I'm all about eliminating the bastards. You want a hand? I can take him out in a heartbeat."

Hannibal turned his head quickly, assessing Logan's offer.

"While I appreciate your proposal, the ring in your pocket illustrates that you have another on which you should be concentrating, so, thank you, no, I must decline."

Shifting in his seat to face Hannibal as he drove, Logan began to plead his case.

"Dude, this totally comes from the heart. Your family means _everything_ to me. I love little man like he was my own. Seriously Doc, I genuinely want to help you protect your family."

"Logan, while I am certain your heart is in the right place, and, though I appreciate your offer, you'll remain at the compound while I attend to the business of my family's protection. I'm not at all interested in eliciting the ire of either one of our lovers."

"Hey, I'm of the opinion that this is on a need to know basis and they don't need to know. I wouldn't tell then, I swear you can trust me."

"Of that I am certain, but can Ardelia?"

Why? Would you tell Clarice?"

"Yes. I would. Would you not tell your future wife?"

Running his palms nervously over his thighs, Logan considered the question, responding, "I don't know. If I did, I think she'd kick my ass."

Hannibal stared at the expressway ahead negotiating the road with ease as he sped toward his home. Speaking more like a father than a friend, Hannibal took a deep breath and began to lecture, "If she would not understand, you should not have offered your participation. Whether you realize it or not, in doing so, you are being disrespectful to Ardelia."

Logan grumbled, accepting his role as the dutifully attentive son as he complained, "I know you're right, but sometimes I think I'd rather disrespect her behind her back than have her yelling at me to my face. She can be a little scary, Doc. Really. No lie."

Turning off the main road to an exit that would bring him toward his compound, Hannibal turned the wheel, cautious of a herd of sheep grazing on the edges of a pasture. Realizing the seasons would be changing soon and in several weeks, the spring lambs would be born. Hannibal smiled.

_Clariiice…_

"Perhaps if you wouldn't go behind her back, she wouldn't be as aggressive. I've noted her anger is a defense mechanism."

"Defense mechanism? To what?"

"To your ignorance, but not in an intellectual way. I am speaking in an interpersonal or social way. You are a very bright and highly trained individual, yet there are times you are less than observant when it comes to how those around you feel, Ardelia especially. Perhaps if you were to consider how your emotional…inattentiveness if you will, makes Ardelia react, you might recognize a cause and effect. If you see a pattern, you can adapt your behavior to alter the situation. You may find that her responses will modify as your behavior changes. Use enhanced self-awareness to improve your relationship and correct your manner of discourse."

"I can alter all the patterns and enhance all kinds of things but trust me when I say she'd still kill me if I told her I wanted to help you."

"If that is the case it is a valid response and as such, is something you should consider. Her feelings must be of the utmost importance."

"Do you consider Clarice before you go out and do something like this?"

"I consider Clarice in all things."

"Don't tell me Clarice would understand you killing that guy!"

Hannibal carefully turned onto the long path that led to their main gate.

"Logan, if Clarice believed this man posed potential threat to our family, not only would she understand my need to eliminate this menace, she would herself drive the dagger home."

"Ardelia would kill me; she really would. I guess maybe we're not really made for each other like I thought we were."

Slowing over the gravel drive to avoid chipping the paint of the Bentley hummed a low sound that led Logan to believe Hannibal didn't agree.

As he looked out the side window of the car careful not to kick up the loosened stones, Hannibal spoke quietly, "As a life partner and match for me, Clarice is absolutely without equal. She and I have an understanding of one another that exceeds what would be conceivable to most. She appreciates and accepts my true nature. With Clarice, and only with Clarice, I have found unconditional love and acceptance. Your nature, your relationship and your personal situation are not at all comparable therefore I wouldn't expect Ardelia to behave in the same manner as Clarice. As I stated earlier, my relationship with my wife is exceptionally non-traditional. It is no reflection on your relationship with Ardelia. I'm certain she both loves and accepts you."

As always, Logan was surprised to hear Hannibal speak of his relationship with Clarice. They'd all lived together for weeks, and although he was polite and a wonderful host, Hannibal rarely spoke. When he did, his voice low, commanding, but now, as Hannibal Lecter spoke of his wife, there with a hint of tenderness and a bit of melancholy Logan recognized was present only when he discussed Clarice. Even when speaking of his son, Hannibal's tone didn't approach the depth of feeling reflected when he spoke of his love for Clarice.

"Yeah, you're right. Clarice is a different kind of person…she's really amazing, Doc. You're a lucky guy."

"Yes, Logan. I am at that."

"Well, you've got a lot going on, so you probably need to get in the zone. I'll be quiet and let you get your head on straight. I know what you're going through."

Hannibal smiled, "Yes, I imagine you do at that. Thank you, Logan."

As Hannibal traveled the long stretch from the beginning border of his property to the main compound Logan sat beside him in silence. As a military man, Logan understood Hannibal's need to focus his attention on the upcoming task. If he couldn't offer his idol any assistance, he would provide him with the peace and quiet needed to concentrate.

Logan broke the silence only when Hannibal stopped the car in front of the home.

"You sure I can't help you, Doc?"

"Actually, Logan you can help me by keeping an eye on my family in my absence. Assure Clarice that I will return when my errand is complete."

Logan laughed as he challenged jokingly, "Your _errand_? Is that what I'm supposed to call it?"

"Call it what you will, Logan. Clarice will know precisely what it means."

Standing beside the car with one hand on the roof and the other on the open door Logan nodded.

"And if she wants something more specific? What then?"

"Then, you tell her exactly what has happened."

"_Really?_ I don't want to cause any problems between you and Clarice. You really want me to tell her?"

"Yes, Logan. Trust me when I say my wife will understand."

Logan continued to shake his head in lighthearted disbelief as he closed the door of the car, stepped back and waved.

"Okay, Doc, you know best. Good luck with your errand. Happy hunting and I'll see you soon."

* * *

The moment the door to the car closed Hannibal sped off. Time was of the essence if he was to return in time to find the man outside removing the items from his vehicle. If not, he might be able to isolate the individual somewhere on the exterior of the home. Only somewhat familiar with the neighborhood, Hannibal knew it had not only homes, but some local businesses as well. There would be foot traffic. Hannibal would have to be not only stealthy, but quick.

_This will not be the most satisfying of kills. No room for artistry or whimsy, just a fast strike to dispatch the man and move from the area as quickly as possible. If all goes well I'll be able to manage on this trip. Returning to the scene could draw attention._

He reached the area to find the white truck in the driveway, the bed of the truck filled with lumber and supplies.

_So, you pulled the vehicle around the back of the building to pick up lumber as well...where will you store that material? It will snow again tonight...there is an outbuilding, perhaps?_

Suddenly the man burst from the home to begin carrying the objects. Cautious not to turn his head and alert attention, Hannibal watched from his periphery. Though he was certain the man wouldn't suspect he was being watched, it wouldn't be prudent to announce his presence.

_You will know me soon enough, my new friend. _

The neighborhood was so densely populated it would be easy to be seen; Hannibal would have to be careful.

_I will not be able to move about freely, nor can I leave the Bentley in the area. It is far too obvious. No matter. It would be better in any event to watch the home to discover whether or not this man lives alone._

Thankfully this location was more urban than his compound. Hannibal scouted for a place to leave the Bentley that wouldn't seem out of the ordinary. There were many small businesses in the area, so Hannibal was able to park the car in a nearby service station, closed for the night. The vehicle wouldn't draw undue attention here- it would simply appear as if the car was being serviced.

Quickly walking the distance to the home he crossed the street and spotted a large shed attached to the side of the home. The man was entering the home carrying several bags giving Hannibal the opportunity to move toward the shed. This would be the area where the building materials would be used and most likely stored, so it was safe to assume this individual would access this area at one point to empty the lumber from his vehicle.

Being that the man had been moving back and forth between the home the car and the shed, the small outbuilding was left unlocked, allowing Hannibal to slip inside unnoticed. He sat across from a small window, watched and waited.

An additional car pulled into the driveway causing Hannibal to attend to the driver. A woman exited the vehicle carrying a baby in her right arm, holding the hand of a toddler with her left. The man came running from the home to the car to help his wife, carrying several bags as she juggled the parcels with her need to control her children.

_I see you were shopping for your family much like any mother. I wish I could say I am sorry my actions will leave you without a husband but it is better your child is raised without his influence. I will not have my son raised without mine._

The couple conversed with Hannibal listening intently. He had already identified the gang member as Tonio Ibanez based on the identification found in the vehicle. Ibanez informed his wife of his purchase and his intent to work on a project she requested. The woman responded excitedly and informed Ibanez that he could indeed spend time on his project.

After an hour of patience, Ibanez would finally move to the area where Hannibal could make his move.

_This will have to be quick my friend...not as enjoyable for me, but much easier for you. No matter, you haven't directly offended me. Your life is a threat and must be dealt with, but you haven't earned my anger. So much the better for you as this will be swift and silent. I cannot promise the same for your compatriots._

As the door to the shed opened, Hannibal moved to the back of the small building, waiting. He was in possession of his harpy but thought better of using it. Looking around the space, Hannibal sought an option that would appear as if the death might be accidental. Surveying the area, Hannibal spotted a hand-held scythe most likely used for cutting brush. Gripping the handle with his gloved hands, Hannibal moved behind the door, lying in wait.

The moment the door opened, before Ibanez, both hands occupied with bags from the builder's supply company, had the opportunity to enter the shed Hannibal took the scythe and drove the point of the blade just to the right of the man's sternum, hooking between the tip with unholy accuracy between the fourth and fifth ribs, tearing Ibanez's heart in two.

_Not even a sound...no gasp or gurgle, efficient-excellent in its simplicity. Somewhat less than satisfying, but perfect for my needs._

Without looking at or considering the man's expression, Hannibal stretched out his right leg, catching the man's shins and effectively tripping him. Ibanez hit the floor face down, the blade ripping into his torso as the flooring drove the deadly tool home. There was no need for Hannibal to check a pulse. He simply placed the man's hand under his body as if he'd been carrying the scythe. Moving the second bag to a nearby shelf, it would appear as if the man had set the bag down, lifted the scythe and tripped. It would be judged an absolutely horrific accident, but an accident nonetheless. Hannibal took his time to investigate the area. It wouldn't do to leave any sign of his presence. When he was certain there was not an errant hair or footprint or fingerprint to be found, Hannibal watched and waited. Soon, when it was safe to leave the shed, Hannibal slipped from the building and disappeared from the property.

* * *

Logan rushed into the home the moment Hannibal drove away.

When confronted with Logan's serious demeanor and almost indiscernible whisper, Clarice was confused. She turned, obviously irritated, inquiring, "What the hell are you whispering for, Logan? H's doing what?"

"He's running an errand…_you know_."

Clarice laughed.

_Jesus, poor H must have been in a heck of a position if he had to tell Logan what he was up to…I'm sure I'll hear all about it later._

"Oh…an _errand_. Okay, thanks Logan."

"You're not worried?"

"No."

"Why not? I am. I'm totally freaking out right now."

"Look, I don't need you trying to get me all fired up, Logan. I trust H to handle his business in a safe and efficient manner. Hannibal knows how much he means to me and how much his son needs him so he's not going to put himself in danger. If he can't run the errand safely, he'll abandon the project and get back to it at another time."

"Errand? Project? What the hell are you two talking about?" Ardelia questioned.

Logan stopped talking. He promised to tell Clarice, but he wasn't sure whether or not Hannibal wanted Ardelia involved. Clarice turned to look at Logan, wondering why he hadn't blurted out everything he knew about the subject.

Instead, Logan quickly regrouped.

"Hannibal gave me some advice today when we were out running errands and I'm really gonna try to do better by you, Dee. I mean that. Can you give me your dad's cell phone number? There's a question I wanted to ask him."

The response wasn't what Ardelia expected, the surprise just enough to deflect the situation. Ardelia tossed Logan her phone.

"It's obviously listed under dad. Good luck, big guy! If you're asking what I hope you're asking, you'll need it!"

Logan walked behind Ardelia and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head as he teased, "I won't need luck because I'm awesome and your dad knows it. He totally wants me as a son. Hey, he was a Marine, too. At least we've got that in common."

"Ooh-rah, Marine. Go for it."

With a sly little smile that his misdirection was successful Logan escaped from the room thankful he hadn't needed to out Hannibal. If Clarice wanted to tell her friend that her husband was out killing a guy, that was her business, but there was no way Logan wanted to do it.

Hannibal was out protecting his family and although he didn't want Logan's help in that, but in his own way Logan found his very own way to protect Hannibal.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
LH**


	25. Chapter 25

**APOLOGY ACCEPTED**

Unusually animated, his right cuff still bloodied, Hannibal had entered his home with a bit more bounce in his step than was his custom. He quickly encountered Logan as he walked through the kitchen in his search for Clarice. Voice smooth and even he showed no signs of stress at all, in fact appearing invigorated. Hannibal questioned, "Excuse me, Logan, have you seen Clarice? I don't detect her scent on this level."

The good doctor appeared so suddenly and silently, as Logan retrieved food from the refrigerator, the interrupted agent smacked his head on an inside shelf- the quick crack of skull on glass rattling covered dishes. Ducking out of the appliance slowly, he cupped a hand on the back of his head and rubbed vigorously. The contact sharp, Logan was more than a bit befuddled shaking his head repeatedly to clear the cobwebs.

"Ow! Dude, how do you _do_ that? I didn't hear a _thing_!"

Hannibal winked and flashing a devious smile, spoke with a hint of whimsy, "An acquired skill."

Moving about the kitchen Hannibal poured himself a glass of wine. Standing beside the breakfast bar three or four feet from Logan he made no effort to hide the blood on his cuff. Although Logan saw the soaked sleeve and realized the deed had been done, he knew enough not to ask, understanding that, like most combatants, Hannibal wouldn't discuss this kill. He did what he had to do to protect his family and that was that. Some men enjoyed killing. Logan had seen that fact first hand, while others not. Logan couldn't imagine Hannibal in the latter category, but it would be bad form to discuss the situation in any event.

Although he was irreverent and immature at times Logan's playful nature covered some very vivid memories of war. He'd seen things. The memories didn't exactly traumatize, but he didn't care to recall the details. He knew what it was like to kill a man, many men in fact, thus he should keep his distance and allow his friend the time to process the event in his own manner.

_He looks like he just got back from picking up a gallon of milk at the store. This freaking dude is so hardcore, it's incredible. Even I'm not that cool under fire and I'm a professional._

He'd never seen Hannibal immediately after he'd run an 'errand' and was surprised at the joviality of the man. It was true, he was there when Nico and Emilia were killed, but that was in the heat of the moment. Hannibal had been tortured and that experience affected him deeply so it wasn't a true reflection of his responses. That attack was immediate and visceral. Not this kill- not now. This was Hannibal. Here, the man was…happy. Logan stared at his chosen mentor, so transfixed he totally forgot the question that had been asked of him.

Hannibal waited patiently for a response, but when it was obvious none was forthcoming, Hannibal goaded, "_Looogan_?"

The sound of Hannibal's voice snapped Logan back to the moment but for the life of him, he couldn't recall the question to which Hannibal was referring.

Dumbstruck, he muttered, "Yes?"

"Clarice?"

The memory of the question allowed the sensation of pain to flood. Logan palmed the back of his head, responding, "Oh, sorry, she's been upstairs for a while putting little man to bed."

Still rubbing his head hoping to lessen the effects of the staggering smack, the younger man sat at the breakfast bar to eat the turkey leg he'd been wounded retrieving. Gnawing at the roasted limb, he wondered how long it would take Ardelia to notice the blood, and what she might think. Hannibal had arrived home so quickly that even though Logan had been surprised to see him, he made no mention of his astonishment remembering Ardelia was within earshot.

Learning that his son had just gone to bed, Hannibal expressed his surprise.

"He was up quite late. I'd expected him to be long asleep by now."

Setting the turkey leg down momentarily, Logan stared off in space obviously considering Hannibal's statement. After coming to a determination, he spoke, "Yeah, you know come to think of it, you're right. Normally he would be long gone by now, but I think he was waiting up hoping to see you. He was struggling so hard to keep his eyes open but once Clarice fed him the poor little guy just passed out in her arms."

Smiling at the thought of his son fighting off sleep just to see him, combined with the maternal image of Clarice nursing their child, Hannibal commented, "Clarice is an exceptional mother. It may not have come naturally, but she's grown into the role rather nicely. I'm immensely proud."

Logan nodded, but turned his gaze from Hannibal quickly, dropping his head and fixing his stare on the marble counter freezing his movement as suddenly as a deer caught in headlights.

Hannibal smiled, knowing he did so because Ardelia was about to enter the room.

Ardelia very quickly spotted the stains on Hannibal's cuff and without understanding the circumstances, spoke, "Wow. That's a lot of blood."

Hannibal shifted his wine glass to his left hand and lifted his right arm to study the cuff, saturated with serum.

"Why yes, it is."

The moment Hannibal addressed the situation Logan winced so dramatically that the air he sucked in harshly through his teeth caught Ardelia's attention. Comically, she misplaced the intent, adding, "Yeah, looks like it hurt, right Logan?"

Panicked that Ardelia might catch on to the source of the blood, Logan nodded his agreement, quickly adding to avoid further questions, "Oh, yeah. I bet it hurt… a lot. But I doubt Doc wants to talk about it." He then stuffed the drumstick into his mouth to avoid further comment.

"I have no qualms speaking about it, Logan." Hannibal answered promptly, finding the situation far too enjoyable to end so quickly.

Unaware, Ardelia continued, "Looks like it was a bad cut. Did it happen just now?"

Not finding it necessary to lie but not wishing to be so overt as to end his entertainment, Hannibal cocked his head to the side and carefully considered the wording. Grinning wryly, he responded, "Just now and yes, it was quite bad."

"Stitches?" Ardelia questioned as she scooted up against Logan at the breakfast bar.

Hannibal smiled.

_Perhaps the mortician might sew up the gap- a matter of professional taste, I imagine. _

"I saw no need. Not to worry, the situation is well under control. Thank you for your concern, Ardelia."

"Well, I'm just glad you're alright. I guess that's part of the reason it pays to be a doctor. You're your own intervention. You can handle that sort of thing on your own."

Ardelia grabbed Logan's wrist, directed the turkey leg toward her mouth and took a bite. As she chewed she was obviously considering the assumed injury to Hannibal.

Skittish, Logan allowed Ardelia to tug at his arm to more readily bite a section of the drumstick as he turned fully away from both Hannibal and Ardelia, suppressing a shudder.

Not at all concerned that Ardelia might discover the actual truth, Hannibal was in fact quite engaged, joining, "How observant of you, yes, that is quite true. I must say, I actually do prefer handling this sort of thing on my own."

With that comment, Logan doubled over choking on the hunk of meat from the turkey leg he had been nervously gnawing.

Chuckling as Logan gagged, Hannibal slapped him heartily on the back and teased, "Are you quite well, Logan? Do _you_ require my intervention as well?"

His face reddened, eyes watering so much so that tears spilled down his cheeks, Logan choked out, "No…no…thanks…that's okay…I think…I'll live."

Assuming Logan was attempting to one-up Hannibal in the discomfort department, Ardelia slapped Logan's arm, warning, "And don't you try to pretend you're doing worse than he is! Would you want to go through what Hannibal did tonight?"

Logan didn't have to lie about his feelings here.

"No, you're right about that, Dee. I'm sorry. I can honestly say I wouldn't want to go through what Hannibal went through tonight."

Pleased with herself for defending Hannibal, Ardelia questioned with concern, "So, how'd you do it anyway?"

Hannibal smoothed his hand over the cool marble of the breakfast island as he answered matter-of-fact tone, "Just a run in with a rather sharp garden tool."

Shaking her head with concern, she commiserated, "Yeah, that's why I don't garden. Treacherous, huh?"

"Yes Ardelia, quite. I was actually surprised at the speed and efficiency of the cut."

"A little winter weeding?"

"Yes, it's amazing how quickly and invasively this sort of pest inserts itself. One must tend quickly or one can be overrun by the infestation."

With that, Clarice entered the room, questioning, "Infestation, H?"

Hannibal smiled. "We are discussing weeds, Clarice."

Seeing the blood on his sleeve, Clarice smiled, "Really? Weeds?" It took her a few seconds to connect the dots. The moment she made the connection, Clarice smiled widely, exuding, "Oh, that's effing brilliant! Gardening accident, H?"

His eyebrow arched. More than a little pleased, Hannibal replied simply, "Yes, and trust me when I say it was quite the surprise."

Snorting with laughter at the insinuation, Clarice responded darkly, "Yeah, I'll bet!"

Hannibal reached for Clarice with his right hand, grasping her left. He spoke low, making no effort to hide his amorous intent as he spoke quietly, "Tending to this sort of thing can be…tiring, Clarice. Bed?"

Lifting her arm to display his bloodied sleeve, Clarice asserted, "How about you tend to that shirt, first?"

"I'd much rather tend to you, my Love."

"Blood gets handled before you get handled, big guy! I'll lock up the house, you get washed up."

"As you wish, Clarice."

The moment Clarice led Hannibal by the blood-soaked arm from the room, Logan's head and chest dropped to the counter. Splayed out across the counter, his cheek resting on the cool marble, he breathed deeply, absolutely exhausted from the exchange.

* * *

Having built a roaring fire before entering the shower, he had now but to finish lighting the last of the candles as he picked up her scent approaching. His sinuses cleared from the hot steam of the shower, the splendid aroma of his love moving down the hall blending with the burning wood from the fireplace was an exceptionally intense sensory experience.

The smell of a fireplace had strong connections of home for him. The thought of hours at the hearth as his mother nursed his sister and his father sat at the harpsichord was a treasured but not oft visited memory. He had begun to entertain such thoughts as of late. With Lady Murasaki expected soon, thoughts of long dead family now infiltrated his daily life. Not unexpected, he thought, and not unwelcome necessarily, but distinctly intrusive at times. He was forced, several times a day in fact, to close a door to a memory opening without call or warning. Some harmless, others decidedly not, with Hannibal despising less the thoughts themselves, as thoughts have no intrinsic motivation, than the untidiness of the process as the memories unexpectedly and unambiguously imposed themselves.

Hannibal believed Clarice would enjoy the fire, though that wasn't his only reason for building it. His secondary reasons eluded him, but he was heartened by the warmth generated as the flames danced in the darkness illuminating the lush pillows and luxurious quilt spread out across the rich Persian rug. Smaller flames licked at the air as scented candles flickered on each bureau, each bedside table, clustered across the full length of the mantle as well.

Adjusting the towel wrapped hastily around his waist, Hannibal admitted the scene was romantic, opposite of what he was feeling as the hormones surged paths of electricity through his system. He was feeling lust, passion and power. This was a scene of love and tenderness though he was experiencing anything but. Considering the dichotomy, Hannibal debated that perhaps this was his way of subconsciously modifying his own intensity. He was unsure of the psychology. His own moods when related to Clarice were often conflicted- that was probably, he postulated, a large reason why he found her so immensely attractive. He could not, with any great degree of accuracy, predict what he would be thinking or feeling in her presence. It was the only time in his life when he was at all surprised by his thoughts, his emotions. Hannibal Lecter found this unpredictability stimulating to say the least.

Hannibal positioned himself behind the door. His breath slowing, deepening with her approach as his chest expanded widely and contracted slowly, muscles still taut from the evening's exertion. Normally he would have allowed the shower to relax him, to bring him down from the adrenalin rush, but not now. He wished to share this experience with his wife. The surging epinephrine that coursed through his system intensified physical sensations. He felt more, sensed more, he…wanted more.

Stepping into the room unaware, Clarice called out to her husband, assuming he was still in the shower.

"Hey, H? Did the blood come out? Want me to get you some club soda or something?"

Springing from behind the door swiftly, silently, Hannibal used his left arm to encircle Clarice's waist lifting her from the ground whilst simultaneously clamping his right hand over her mouth. His breath hot against her neck, his voice a low rumble in her ear, Hannibal scraped his incisors at her pulse point, growling, "Or _something_…"

Clarice struggled against his strength, laughing from beneath his clamped hand. Hannibal whispered, "Will you surrender to me, Clarice, or shall I impose my will?"

"Impose your will? You just go ahead and try that and see how it works out for you."

Clarice reached for Hannibal's hand, gripped his wrist, turned into his body and tugged his arm in an attempt to execute a hip toss. Hannibal, sensing the flexing of her muscles and extrapolating from the movement, countered her move by snapping her body toward him like a bullwhip, wheeling her into his chest once more. Her body slammed against his torso, now face-to-face.

Gripping her husband's shoulders, Clarice pushed down with her palms, attempting to squirm from his grip.

"Let me go, H!" Clarice urged, her mouth no longer covered.

"Never, Clarice. I will never let you go."

Laughing as she struggled, Clarice finally looked over Hannibal's shoulder and gasped, surprised at the scene.

"Wow, H…I'm impressed."

His wife's legs swinging, her body pressed the full length of his, Hannibal nuzzled his nose along her cheek and whispered, "One hopes you will be far more impressed quite soon, Clarice."

His senses alerted, Hannibal's body began to respond to his wife, first by scent as the aromas of her body twisted into his nostrils. Hannibal breathed deeply, letting the sensations settle on the back of his tongue like a fine wine, relishing the taste of her. Next his large hands skimmed over her body, savoring the silky feel of her flesh as he slowly disrobed his lover. Removing a garment at a time, his mouth at her neck searching, Hannibal allowed the clothing to fall to the floor as he peeled each layer from her frame. Upon discarding the final garment, Hannibal leaned back, his hands passing over her now nude form. He looked unreservedly at her body as he pressed his hands over each curve, dancing his fingertips over every striation of muscle, every last inch of warm flesh.

"You are magnificent, Clarice…you rival Venus."

"You say that all the time, H."

"I say it because it is true."

Clarice turned her head to look over the room. "You've gone to a lot of trouble just for a little loving, H. You know you don't need to do all of that for me. Have I ever turned you away?"

"It is precisely because you don't expect such things that you are entitled to them, Clarice. You require little from me, but you deserve all. I would climb the gates of hell to offer you the smallest comfort. You are everything, Clarice."

Clarice stood naked before her husband running her hands over his body. Pressing a kiss to his chest she spoke softly, "So are you, H."

Hannibal's head angled slightly, a smile blooming as he questioned, "Searching, my Love?"

Now, a kiss to his shoulder, as she ran her hands up and down his arms checking for any kind of damage.

"No wounds? So, all the blood was all his?"

"All his. I halved his heart with a hand-held scythe. That sort of injury can be a messy affair, but it was necessary that this execution appear accidental. I warned the dealer with the first kill. I don't want him to catch on that this death was my handiwork as well."

"Don't you think that you might have already scared him off the farm? Or do you think…"

Hannibal raised an interrogative eyebrow, waiting for Clarice to connect the dots. The moment the connection was made, she nodded vehemently, "Yeah, you're right. He'd move on you here. I'd like to kill Cervelli for putting you, us, in this position."

"He was clearly desperate to save his family. I don't fault him, however it does put me in the position that I must, too, defend my family. At all cost."

"Clearly must have been insanely desperate if he turned to a convicted serial killer for help, no offense."

"None taken."

Hannibal began to kiss his wife tenderly at first, the passion soon building as the kiss deepened. His arms now resting on the gentle slope of her bottom, he squeezed firmly, his tongue gently slipping within her mouth, twirling and sweeping against her own. Slowly probing, his fingers now kneading the flesh, Clarice pushed back from her husband.

"Hey H…Seriously, what do we do if…"

Hannibal uncharacteristically interrupted, "My Love, if all you can think about is Mr. Cervelli or Chavez, perhaps I need to rethink my approach in the bedroom…"

Now, it was Clarice's turn to interrupt, "No, H…I'm being ridiculous. Sorry."

Carrying his wife to the assemblage of pillows thoughtfully arranged in front of the fireplace, Hannibal lowered Clarice, placing her on the soft bedding. Taking his place at her side, Hannibal drew his wife to his body. Dropping his head, Hannibal nudged the peak of her breast with the tip of his nose, the promise of a long evening of lovemaking as he whispered, "Apology accepted."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**  
**LH**


	26. Chapter 26

**HOME AND HEARTH**

Hannibal rested alongside his wife, curling tightly around her body as he buried his nose within her hair. He inhaled deeply, finding the scent intoxicating. Normally, he would be complimenting her, discussing the day's events or conferring whatever new developmental milestone their gifted baby reached so much earlier than other infants. Now, all he wanted to do was make love as slowly and as silently as possible.

The fire cast a warm, undulating golden glow around the room, their shadows dancing low across the floor and walls. Clarice's body was hot, more so than normal, especially given her current state of undress. Hannibal traced his nose along her shoulders, kissing the flesh now flushed from the self-generated heat of her body, along with blazing flames from the fire. Nostrils flaring, Hannibal detected a minute change, the aroma not _exactly_ different. Unable to put his finger on it, he kissed her back just along her spine, hopeful, he allowed his tongue to delicately stroke her skin, tasting. When he believed he'd come to a determination, a smile slowly tugged at the corners of his mouth.

_Your scent is altered. Could it be, Clarice?_

Hannibal reached for his wife's belly, smoothing his palm over what he now recognized as a gently emerging curve.

_I wonder if you know? Another child- my daughter perhaps…Thank you, my Love._

Normally, Hannibal would turn his wife to face him as they made love, but not tonight. He didn't want to be the one to reveal the pregnancy, as he had with Devyni, and believed had they faced one another she would see it in his eyes. They were softer, he was sure, and would certainly give him away. She knew him, his Clarice, and would see the glint of light sparking with crimson and maroon as his irises reflected the instantaneous love he felt burning for this newest child.

Sensing his vulnerability, Clarice questioned, "You're quiet, H…everything okay?"

_I cannot hide from you can I, Clarice?_

He placed a tender kiss between her shoulder blades, his mouth present on her flesh much longer than usual. So very touched by her concern he turned his head slightly from side to side several times allowing his lips to brush back and forth, memorizing the sensation. He didn't answer causing Clarice to pursue.

"_H?_"

_You worry for me, my Love…trust that it is no more than I worry for you._

Hannibal kissed her once more before whispering, "Everything is perfect, Clarice. Perfect."

"You sure?"

"Quite."

Reaching back for her husband, Clarice grasped Hannibal's left thigh pulling his body closer to hers. As Hannibal's right arm supported Clarice wrapping fully around her body, his hand rested over her collarbone. Feeling her pulse, he continually stroked the gentle dip at the base of her throat where the bones joined finding this whisper of contact comforting. His left forearm draped over her hip allowing his hand the freedom to glide over the curves of her body, settling beneath the full slope of her breast. With his left thumb he circled her areola, anticipating the feel of his lips at the peak, imagining the sensation of the flesh quickly pebbling against the stroke of his tongue.

_Another baby to feed from your breast, my Love…another life added to this world._

As if she could read his thoughts, Clarice sighed; her body stretched against his, moving with each breath he took. They were well matched, this pair, requiring very little contact to arouse one another. Hannibal's body against hers generated an aching at her center. It was a dull, pulsing need demanding to be filled, but Hannibal was far more sedate than expected. Wanting to initiate their lovemaking, Clarice attempted to turn into his body to face him, but her husband's arm across her clavicle stayed the attempt.

Speaking very calmly, hiding, she thought, the worry from her tone, she urged, "H…I want to face you."

Sensing the concern, Hannibal quieted, "I am quite comfortable, Clarice."

Not surprised he'd read her intent so quickly Clarice momentarily relented. He'd been through a lot tonight therefore, for the time being, she'd allow him whatever comfort he desired.

Smoothing his left hand over the iliac crest he allowed his thumb to lightly drag along the hollow of her hip. Letting the flat of his palm skim along the surface, his fingers rippled over the curves until he reached the sensual slope of her inner thigh. Hannibal ranged across her left thigh, gripped gently, lifted and opened, spreading her legs to him.

The moment Clarice's legs opened, Hannibal inhaled once more, his wife's blossoming scent causing his heart to pound as the aroma infiltrated his sinuses.

"You scent rivals the sweetest nectar, Clarice."

"I love you, too, H."

Hannibal smiled, trailing his left hand along her abdomen. His touch was not overtly sexual in nature, but his intention was clear. Dropping his chin over her shoulder, he began placing tender kisses along her jaw, the full length of their bodies cradled together. Though they were not yet internally joined, the lovers instinctually rocked one against the other. The rhythm of their bodies as they swayed, slowly synchronized, the alignment seeming as if his heart pulsed within her body, as well. Pulsing too, the constant throbbing between her legs increasing as he lowered her leg over his hip to rest across his thigh. His passion, too, began to escalate as his erection pressed firmly against Clarice's back, the burn in his belly urging him on. His hand, seeking her sex, stroked slowly, deliberately as his fingers began sliding within the channel, continually teasing her body open to him.

Parting her lips, Hannibal very tenderly stroked her delicate flesh, now moist with want. Not speaking, he growled low in her ear, his body's customary response to her scent, now so thick in the air. It was a demanding possessive sound, lush and much less primal than expected. This sound was low, almost tender…not unusual, really. But after what he'd just done to protect their family, quite unexpected. Clarice had anticipated she would be holding Hannibal: predator, protector. She expected his touch tonight to be animalistic and intense. Instead holding her now with such love and care was Hannibal: gentle husband, tender lover.

_Why? What about this is so different? What's here that I can't see?_

Arching her back, she craned her neck, searching for his eyes. Recognizing her want and parrying the attempt, Hannibal lifted himself slightly, finding her mouth quickly. Clarice's kiss was open, wanting, with Hannibal responding in kind. Their tongues danced lightly within each other's mouths, tasting. Their heads turned ever so slightly at first, the intensity increasing slowly until the couple mouthed hungrily, feeding on one another as their arousal heightened.

Moving his hand, teasing his fingers within the sweetly drenched folds, Hannibal turned his wife's body to the left. Her bottom was lifted from the bed, resting on his left hip, her body was now fully off the bedding with her bottom on his hips, and her shoulders spanning his chest, rising and falling with every breath her husband took.

Switching hands smoothly Hannibal reached low and once more parted her lips, this time using his right hand.

Clarice stretched against his body, hers twisting, hips rocking gently to meet the movement of his hand. She hummed lightly, Hannibal's attention affecting her breathing, deepening the inhalations, each exhalation a sigh of praise and encouragement.

With his left, he reached for his arousal. Gripping his erection at the base, Hannibal stroked his member along the channel of her sex. He torturously tempted his lover repeatedly swiping the tip within her heated flesh.

"H…c'mon, don't tease me."

"Not a tease, a promise of things to come, Clarice."

"Okay, so get your _promise _moving along, big guy."

Pressing backward toward her husband, she arched, presenting her femininity, urging his entrance.

For his part, Hannibal was in no hurry, enjoying the mix of their scents as he rubbed himself along the folds. The aroma coursed through his nostrils, flooding his olfactory system causing an intense flood of emotions as protective instincts began to surge.

_Mine. She is mine and no one will ever have her. No one will harm what is mine to protect._

"H…H…?"

"Understood, my Love."

She spoke nothing more than her love filled label for him but he understood her meaning. She was ready and would wait no longer. Drawing his hips back, he gradually forced himself within her body, slowly, deliberately.

Clarice reached back, clutching his buttocks, pulling him, crushing her body against his.

As he reached the hilt of his member he pulled her close, his breath at her ear, listening.

Hannibal pressed forward and as his fullness slowly opened her, she gasped. Upon exhaling, a light, airy sigh escaped, causing Hannibal's heart to skip a beat.

_Thank you, my Love. You do not disappoint._

Hannibal moved with deliberate ease, each agonizingly slow purposefully deep thrust, was followed by a long, deliberate retraction, the process repeating itself again and again with frustrating leisureliness as Hannibal moved within his wife, making no effort to speed the process. Clarice gripped his body, squeezing, hoping to fuel his passion. Still, Hannibal drove himself slowly forward, pulling back with a relaxed pace, all the while, his fingers unhurriedly stroked her sex as his breath huffed in her ear.

Slowly, like tiny bubbles rising, her orgasm simmered, but didn't reach the feverish boil to which she'd become accustomed. This process was becoming not only tedious, but was equally frustrating.

_What's going on with you, H? This isn't like you._

Though Clarice was bothered, she moved with her husband for several minutes. She attempted to hide her dissatisfaction hoping he would snap out of whatever funk he was in, but her husband seemed content to continue this pace without escalating their arousal and she was anything but. It wasn't as if he was doing anything wrong, but it was far too slow to inspire her orgasm.

Frustrated, Clarice pulled away and rolled from her husband's body. She again attempted to turn toward him, but Hannibal grabbed her shoulders, holding her close. Hannibal kissed her shoulders, a distraction that, at this point of frustration, Clarice would not continue to allow.

Forcing her body to turn into his, Clarice challenged, "Okay, what the hell is going on and don't blame the dead guy 'cuz I'm not buying it."

Surprised, Hannibal faced his wife, uncharacteristically unsure of what to say. He hedged, "Not buying what, Clarice?"

Placing a hand on his chest, rubbing as if to wake him, she asserted, "Not buying the whole, slow-screw-you-from-behind-because-it's-romantic thing. You never make love without looking into my eyes, H, so what gives?"

Hannibal lowered his eyes, looking away momentarily. This quick shift was not wasted on Clarice. She immediately pounced, "Okay, fess up. What did you do?"

"I haven't done anything that requires _fessing_, Clarice."

Clarice captured his chin with the thumb and index finger of her right hand, pulling slightly to get a clear look into his eyes. She didn't speak for several minutes, instead staring forward, holding his gaze. She squinted for a moment, assessing. Suddenly, she blurted, "Oh my god, you _know _don't you?"

Smiling, realizing she was aware of the pregnancy and now aware he was as well, Hannibal teased, "_Know_ what, Clarice?"

"Jesus! I swear to god I can't surprise you for anything!"

"I attempted to give you the opportunity to tell me, my Love."

"Don't be such a wise ass, H. It doesn't matter if you give me the opportunity to tell you if you already know!"

"I just now detected the change in your scent, Clarice. If you've known for more than a few minutes, your awareness preceded mine."

"But, I wanted to tell you, H."

"You did tell me, my Love. With your body and your love, you told me. Now, not only will Devyni have a sister, we shall have our daughter."

"What if it's another boy, H?"

"I say daughter only because your scent is different with this pregnancy than it was with the first. I'm assuming, because of that altered scent, that you are pregnant with our daughter, however know that in my eyes a son would be equally welcomed."

Clarice kissed her husband's chest. "I had a romantic night planned for tomorrow. I was going to ask Logan and Ardelia to sit with Dev for a bit so we could go out to eat and have a private night."

"This is very private, my Love and much more romantic than a restaurant."

"I guess you're right…I just…I wanted it to be special."

Hannibal began to kiss Clarice's neck, his lips brushing against her ear as he pulled her close, whispering so close that the hum of his voice tickled as he spoke, "Whenever we are together, Clarice, it is special."

"You're right, H…it's just that I can't ever surprise you."

"Trust my Love, that you are a constant surprise. Tonight, now, no one else would have sensed my…lie of omission. You sense within me that which would be unseen by others. There are times I believe it is possible that you know me better than I know myself."

Clarice rolled onto her back with Hannibal very quickly perceiving the action and understanding her meaning. He climbed over her body, centering himself. Resting on his left elbow, he lifted her leg over his right elbow, shifting his hips until his erection poised at her entrance.

"Now, Clarice?"

"Now, H, and hurry."

Hannibal shifted his hips, pressing himself forward, entering his wife with deliberate speed.

Clarice began to thrust her hips forward with Hannibal gripping her bottom, his fingers driving deep into her flesh as he bucked forward, holding the pace steady.

His hunger building, Hannibal surged forward, aggressively capturing a nipple. His mouth closed over the coral peak, sucking hard, the contact so extreme and so thrilling, Clarice gasped, the sound of her desire causing Hannibal's heart to pound within his chest.

"Oh, H…Oh, god…"

Normally, Hannibal might have asked if he was hurting Clarice, but in this instance he recognized that the pain paired with her pleasure as his wife's hips bucked upward, crashing against his, fueling the fervor.

Hannibal continued to nip and tease at her breast, all the while driving his hips like pistons firing, fueling their passion and driving the arousal.

"Will you call to me, my Love…your ecstasy is magnificent. Let me hear my name as you climax. I need to know that you're with me…that you love me. Will you bless me in that way, my Love?"

"Yes…oh…yes…H…yes."

Soon, that smoldering passion began to build as the fluid roll of Hannibal's hips drove forward, the deep penetration of his hardness heated her body, the simmer rolling to a boil. Clarice trembled, her body shaking as the tension built, the stress giving way to a shuddering orgasm. She gripped his body, every muscle taut as she bent forward, allowing his penetration to push her over the edges of ecstasy. Trembling, she shook against him and when he believed she'd reached the height of her arousal, Hannibal began to thrust repeatedly, driving himself to his own end. Pressing his fingers hard against her sex, she called out, not in pain, but it overwhelming ecstasy.

"Ha…Hanni…Hannibal…oh…god…Hannibal..."

Thrusting deep, hard, Hannibal repeated her name in her ear, growling out the last as his body shuddered, the tension of his own orgasm shaking him to his core. The pair trembled, Hannibal enfolding her within his arms, his chin draped over her shoulder, whispering his love to her. The pair drifted to sleep in one another's arms, fully contented to be there.

An hour passed, maybe more. Clarice rested on her right side, Hannibal curved protectively around her body, holding…guarding.

The fire still roaring in front of them as they slept, Hannibal's subconscious thoughts slowly took over, the sense memory of home and hearth began to warp in his mind, poisoning the events of the evening. He lost all thought of love. Lost all thought of his wife and his family. Instead, Hannibal's mind floated down a very dark path. Slowly, a door opened within his mind. One Hannibal would have preferred stayed closed.

_**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
LH**_


	27. Chapter 27

**HUNTED...HAUNTED**

Obviously unsettled as he struggled within his dreamscape, Hannibal rolled away from Clarice. Now lying prostrate, his forehead cradled on crossed forearms he unwillingly gave himself over to his mind's eye, the visions vicious, relentless. Hannibal's body shuddered, his respirations strained as the exertion of his dream subverted his calm. His physiology was now fully engaged in another place and time.

Walking beside a large grey Percheron, Hannibal's half-frozen hand gripped the bridle just above the Pelham bit, the leather rigging smooth, the trail hard. The animal's breath huffed great blasts of steam as his nostrils vented into the icy air. It was a cold day, months long into the winter season, snow knee-deep as he struggled to cover the distance to the hunting lodge through the thick wooded brush. Choosing to keep far off the path, much like his own father before him, he hoped to avoid detection. Humans were treacherous, but there were equally dangerous predators in the forest.

The animal Hannibal had harnessed, towed a large wagon filled with supplies. The family would need to remain hidden for quite some time and as such, their needs were many. The bulking contents of the large wagon's bed shifted violently as the vehicle rocked and tilted, scaling over rock and hill in an attempt to reach the safety of the lodge. There were muffled cries as Clarice, fully swollen and near delivery, comforted their child, now a toddler. Devyni's cries weren't loud, but this sound was troubling as it was actual weeping. The sound, inarticulate and needy, was different than his son's normal calls. It was that of a child frightened in some way. That fear, in reference to his son, was both terrifying and unrecognizable to him.

The pounding of his own heart illustrated the terror that, too, gripped his soul. Coming over the last rise, Hannibal caught sight of the cabin but understood he was quickly running out of daylight. Knowing the animals in the area were starved and desperate, Hannibal was becoming equally desperate. He tugged the horse's bridal pulling the animal's head over his shoulder, practically dragging the beast along. He kept close, pressing his face alongside his horse's cheek, whispering reassurances to urge the animal past its capabilities.

His master's anxious encouragement caused the faithful animal to rededicate its limited physical resources, struggling immensely. His barrel-shaped chest bellowed with exhaustion, as his mighty heart pulled what his body could no longer. The sun setting, predators began moving behind the trees, their low growls rolling like thunder, threatening to overtake.

The yowling sounds of their hunger caused a clutching urgency that tightened Hannibal's chest as the brisk walk toward the lodge quickly evolved into a near-dead run.

Seeing his demeanor, Clarice worried, "Talk to me, H…what's going on?"

"We must reach the shelter of the building, Clarice. The animals that stalk us are dangerous; their appetites will drive their savagery. We must take exceptional care and stay close together. Predators rarely attack unless they can isolate their victims. Stay close, Clarice. Stay close and I shall carry our son."

Clarice turned to her husband just as Hannibal reached for her hand. She set Devyni on the seat beside her and spoke quietly.

"Don't move, Dev. Daddy wants to carry you, so wait until Mommy climbs down."

Hannibal placed a hand on his son, securing the boy as Clarice stepped down from the wagon. Turning his head for just a moment, Hannibal confirmed that his wife was indeed safe.

As he turned, Devyni leapt from the bench, calling out proudly, "I can do it myself, Daddy. I can run faster than you."

As the boy ran toward the lodge, without hesitation, Hannibal bolted toward his son.

In his periphery, Hannibal could see the lone wolf set crouching low. Clarice couldn't spot the animal, but heard the snarling sounds coming from the woods. She cried out the moment Hannibal's eyes shifted toward the tree line away from her son.

"Oh, God! No! Devyni! No!"

Clarice's words brimmed with terror causing Hannibal to turn his upper body toward her even as his legs tore at the snow desperately seeking to intercept his son.

"Clarice! Stay with the wagon! Stay with the wagon!"

"Why are you running away? Get him, H…save our baby!"

"Trust me, Clarice…don't move!"

It was too late.

His wife had already begun running in the direction of her son, not realizing that Hannibal was running a tangent, attempting to intercept the beast in order to allow the boy the time to reach the safety of the cabin.

Suddenly, Clarice called out, her expression and tone reflecting obvious terror, "H! H!"

Focused on his quarry, Hannibal couldn't afford a moment to turn toward his wife. His nostrils flaring, he picked up the scent of the animal he sought to intercept. It was too close. Another scent, this behind him in the same direction as Clarice, flooded his olfactory system.

_There are many more…they are near…God…so very near._

Hannibal issued a desperate warning he understood to be in vain.

"No, Clarice!"

Suddenly, the large canine came surging forward, leaping. Hannibal left the ground as well, catching the animal mid-air, the back legs of the beast flipping over as man took beast to the ground. Reaching for his Harpy as the animal struggled in his grip, Hannibal hooked the blade through the animal's throat and tore the organs and sinews from its body.

Dropping the carcass to the ground, he turned to see his son standing stock-still staring at his father, now dripping with blood. Seeing a wolf move between the lodge and his son, Hannibal stretched toward the child and extended his arms, beckoning the boy to come to him.

Just as Devyni turned, Lady Murasaki opened the door large door from the hunting lodge, emerged from the doorway and waved the boy to her. Instead of joining his father or Clarice, the toddler scampered toward the comfort of the amber light beaming from the open door.

Seeing the movement, the wolf crouched low. Crawling, belly along the snow as he stalked the boy, its tail twitched, measuring both distance and speed to gauge the accuracy of its attack.

"No, my little one it isn't safe! Stay with Daddy!"

Spinning in a circle, confused by the snarls so close by, Devyni turned toward his father, opening his arms to him and wildly flapping his hands, gesturing that his father might protect him.

The boy moved no more than five or six steps when a large grey wolf attacked. This was not a zoo attraction or a domesticated animal from a nature preserve. This animal was a snarling, starving, killing machine. The animal raced low across the snow, crashed into the boy and scrambling to straddle the much smaller child. The canine maliciously gripped the boy's throat, the animal clamping down with lethal result, crunched through the tiny vertebrae, shaking its head back and forth with vicious efficiency. Now flopping about like a rag doll, it was obvious to the distraught father that his son's neck had been broken instantly.

Clarice wailed in grief as the wolf bent low, tugging the boy by one leg, the small body trailing between it's forelegs. The wolf arched its back, dug into the snow with its hind legs and dragged her son's now lifeless body bleeding from the mouth and nose, away through the snow, his head bobbing along as the animal built up speed.

Hannibal's body shook in his sleep as in his dream, the intense shudder that rocked him waking Clarice. Concerned, she sat up and watched as his body tensed and his fists gripped and punched at the bedding while in his dream he gripped fistfuls of snow, growling and pounding his rage into the frozen ground until his throat was raw and his knuckles bloodied. His son gone and in shock himself, he quickly turned his attention to his wife.

_Oh no…Clarice…_

Crawling through the snow, sobbing as she dragged herself, pregnant belly tilting her at an awkward side-angle, Clarice clutched and clawed her way through the snow toward the blood soaked pathway, wailing, "My baby boy…no…noooo!"

Scrambling to his feet Hannibal was desperate as he ran toward his wife, pleading, "Clarice, stand! Make your body appear larger, not smaller. Please, rise slowly and come toward me…they'll attack if you're alone! I need you with me. Clarice, _please!"_

"H, he's gone…our boy…our baby boy is gone. Go find him, H…find him."

"There's nothing to find, Clarice. He's gone. Please. Please come."

Burying her face in her hands, Clarice collapsed onto her side, pulling her knees as close to her body as she could manage. Absolutely inconsolable as she rolled in the snow, Clarice's primal moans merely an echo of anguish rising to the heavens.

Suddenly, four wolves darted from the brush, two each grabbing at her arms, another at her throat, a fourth clutching an ankle, all violently yanking her from the fetal position. Clarice thrashed and punched, but she was unable to keep the beasts from tearing at her flesh, her eyes rolled as a pack of six additional wolves teemed from the trees, surging toward her.

Hannibal, running until his lungs burned and his heart felt as if it might burst from his chest was still two or three feet from Clarice when it became obvious to him that she was dead. Her throat splayed open, bare to her spine, Hannibal dropped to his knees, distraught. The relentless beasts swarmed, tugging at her lifeless body, inert eyes still open, entreating, as the wolves tore hunks of flesh from her body. One animal slashed her abdomen, while two others ruthlessly nosed within the cavity, their uncompromising jaws clutching and snapping as they ripped Hannibal's unborn child from his wife's womb.

"No…not this…not this…just take me, God…just take me now and spare me this."

The child momentarily dropped onto the snow as the lead wolf nosed it briefly. The baby's star-shaped hand reached out as Hannibal's eyes met his daughter's.

The wolf decided she, too, was food. He opened his savage jaws, and gripped an arm, tearing it from her body. The nameless child's brief cry as they pulled her limb from limb, tiny palm waving from the canine's jaw, cleaved his heart. Hannibal Lecter, hands clutching his head, fingers scrubbing his hair, nails digging into his scalp drawing blood, doubled-over, despondent. Wailing in agony surrounded by a wreath of blood-drenched snow and bits of gnawed flesh he surveyed with horror all that remained of his family.

_Gone…all gone…I have nothing…I am nothing…_

Hannibal's sleeping body lurched upward, his mouth agape as if screaming, his anguish strangling the words before they could escape. Terror clutched his throat, gagging him. Chest heaving, he attempted to catch his breath, but couldn't regain control. Instead, his mouth clutched at the air, gasping like a fish out of water.

"Oh my God, H! What the hell!"

Hearing his wife's voice, Hannibal's twisted quickly, rotating at the waist to face her. He gripped her shoulders, his head dropping between own shoulders, bobbing with each strained breath as he slowly wrested control of his body from his nightmare.

Several seconds passed before he was able to open his restricted throat to speak.

As Hannibal internally checked his physiology, slowly adjusting his heart rate and respirations, he spoke without emotion, "Nightmare…"

Clarice smoothed her palm across her husband's back, rubbing gently as she consoled, "Trust me when I say, that was incredibly obvious. Are you okay?"

Fully recovered but touched by his wife's concern, Hannibal leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Yes, my Love, though it was particularly vivid…not at all pleasant."

"That's an understatement…it was scary to see. You looked like you were screaming, but nothing came out."

"Be that as it may, I'm awake and quite fine, my Love. Our son is safely sleeping, you are healthy, carrying our second child and in my arms. All is right with the world."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Why?"

"Because it looked horrific. What's going on, H?"

"Nothing actually _happened_, Clarice, therefore nothing is going on."

Clarice wrapped her arms around her husband and resting her head on his chest, squeezed tightly as she urged, "Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H! You know what I mean!"

"I know that you worry for me, my Love, but it was no more than a figment of my imagination. Simply a healthy dose of my fears combined with the long forgotten remnants of trauma from my childhood. It is over."

"There was nothing healthy about any of that, H, so don't try to snow me."

_Snow you, Clarice? If you only knew…_

Hannibal gathered his wife in his arms and pulled her to him, and lovingly kissed the top of her head as he spoke, "I believe the visitation of my aunt is causing a minor upheaval in my subconscious mind. I have been having very intrusive thoughts. Waking and sleeping."

Placing her palm on his sternum, Clarice posted up just enough to get a better look.

"Intrusive how?"

"I have been worried that I will not be able to protect you and our children sufficiently, Clarice. That my inability will put your lives at risk. Intrusive as well because I am having very dark thoughts with respect to Lady Murasaki."

"Dark thoughts, H?"

"Very dark, Clarice. Terrifyingly so."

* * *

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**  
**LH**


	28. Chapter 28

**THE MOB**

Because their friends were hoping to use the information gathered in Argentina to assist the investigation, Hannibal and Clarice escorted Ardelia and Logan to the airport. Ardelia was anxious, Logan even more so, though his appeared more a nervous energy. Ardelia simply looked worried. The men walked ahead, Hannibal, his eyes, by habit, constantly scanned the area as he carried his son.

The boy beamed, his left hand resting on his father's chest as he reached with his right to pat Hannibal's cheek. Smiling, Hannibal responded by briefly touching his forehead to his son's, brushing his nose along the baby's cheek. Young Hannibal giggled, playfully grabbing his father's nose as he looked adoringly into his eyes. The baby obviously loved the look of his father's eyes, clearly captivated not only by the color, but by the love he found there, as well.

Watching the interaction, the women followed several steps behind, Clarice commenting, "Look how Dev stares at H. He loves him so much- they're inseparable."

Ardelia spoke softly, careful not to be heard, "I have to tell you, Clarice, based on Hannibal's past, I'm amazed by what a great father he is."

Though the compliment was left-handed, Clarice took it with the spirit it was intended, speaking softly, "Actually, his past is the reason why he is a great father. He truly values family."

Clarice left it at that. She didn't need to get into the particulars if Ardelia didn't pursue the topic. The women continued to walk through the airport toward what they believed was the security checkpoint. The closer they came, the more agitated Ardelia became, mumbling, "Are you sure it's safe for us to leave, Clarice?"

Knowing Ardelia and Logan had extended their time well past their allotted vacations, Clarice consoled, "We'll be fine, Dee, don't worry. You'll be helping us out if you can get Pearsall on the case. The investigation here would benefit from a little support and in the long run, that can only help."

_Not to mention it shifts the attention from Hannibal so he can get his work done without worry and finally gets Logan away from H before his patience runs out. I don't mind him knocking off a few drug dealers, but a friend, irritating as he is, just isn't the best idea._

Ardelia looked at Clarice with a skeptical eye. She was close to the truth, sensing, but, thankfully, couldn't see it.

"You know, Clarice, I'm really surprised. I mean, Hannibal is usually a little more on top of things than this."

Clarice felt a sudden rush of nerves. What was Ardelia considering? Has she seen or heard something to make her suspicious? Proceeding with caution, Clarice asked,"What do you mean?"

"He had the Ripper file what? Half an hour and he solved it. I would have thought he would have cracked this case and turned the information over to the authorities by now. He already knows a lot. How hard could it be for him to run down all of the people involved."

_Run down, huh? Well, if that's today's euphemism for killing them all methodically, then yup! That's what he's doing!_

"Do you really think they'd listen? Seriously?"

"No, you're right…they probably wouldn't."

"They'd think he was trying to shift the focus from himself. Look, if you don't want to present the information at the meeting, don't. We'll be fine either way."

"It's not that I mind presenting all of this to the Bureau, but what good is Pearsall? I mean, let's face facts; the man is an idiot."

"Pearsall can indirectly protect H, Dee. If he's on the case they'll be much less likely to try and shift the blame Hannibal's way. I need to make sure he's safe, I can't do this alone."

"Yeah, but it's not like Hannibal's…" Ardelia paused, her mind illuminating, she blurted, "You can't do _what_ alone?"

Believing this new topic would be far safer than discussing the drug dealers, Clarice pulled her friend to the side and whispered, "I think I might be pregnant."

"Again? _Already?_ Jesus, Clarice. How old is Dev? What? Five months?"

Being unfamiliar with the airport and preoccupied with the conversation, Ardelia didn't notice when the men bypassed the security checkpoint, instead moving to the right down a long corridor toward a large common area. Hannibal, realizing Clarice would immediately question the move, looked over his shoulder and winked.

_So, something's going on? Okay, I'll play along. What are you up to, H?_

The trust between them without question, Clarice left the situation to her husband and responded to Ardelia's shock simply.

"Six."

Clearly believing the pair to be more than a little irresponsible, she questioned with no small measure of incredulity, "And how pregnant _are_ you?"

Clarice's answered was saturated with sarcasm as she responded, "Are there varying degrees? Jesus, Dee, pregnant is pregnant."

Ardelia tugged at Clarice's coat, persisting, _"How many months?"_

Hearing the judgment in Ardelia's tone, it irritated her to answer but Clarice responded, "I don't know, I haven't been to the doctor yet but not more than two months along, I suspect."

"So Dev will barely be over a year by the time this little guy shows up?"

"Yeah, thirteen months or so. It's crazy, I know, but H really wanted a sibling for Dev while they're close enough in age to grow up together."

"What's crazy is you didn't learn your lesson after the first baby. Christ, that almost _killed_ you. Why would you be signing up for another one so freaking soon? Haven't you two ever heard of birth control? What? They don't have drug stores or pharmacies selling condoms for god's sake?"

"Hey, if I want to have ten kids with H, it's no one's business but ours and he wants a baby girl. He never really got over his little sister being killed in the war."

"He had a _sister_? Did we ever talk about that? I remember something…"

"He wasn't hatched from a freaking pod, Dee. Yes. He had a sister…a mom and a dad, too. They were all killed right in front of him."

"Guess that's what made him all kinds of crazy." Realizing what she said had hurt Clarice by the crestfallen look in her friend's eyes, Ardelia quickly regrouped, comforting, "I didn't mean he was_ still _crazy…I mean…oh, Christ, you know what I mean."

"Don't worry, Dee. I know you didn't want that to come out the way it did but he's really had a traumatic life. I'm sure it pushed him to do a lot of things he might never have done under different circumstances- not that it matters. He doesn't talk about it much, but I know a little girl to take care of would mean the world to him. After that, I'll probably be done. H wants a big family but, honestly, I'm just not a naturally maternal person. I hate to admit it, Dee, but this whole mom-thing hasn't come easy to me."

"Sure…I get that. I think I've got a leg up on you in that department. I've had so many cousins and nieces and nephews along the years that I don't worry about how I'll handle having babies."

"Yeah, well, I grew up in an orphanage, so even though I was surrounded by kids, they were my own age. I've never been responsible for anyone but myself. This has been a hell of a transition year."

"That's the understatement of the century."

Clarice lifted a chin to turn Ardelia's attention to Logan, now circling behind Hannibal making faces at the baby. "So, have you two been planning a big event-anything I need to save a date for?"

"Please…I'll believe it when I see it. Until then, it's all talk. He asked for my dad's number, but he hasn't called him yet- I don't think."

"He's probably waiting 'til you get back to the states."

"Well if he waits much longer, I may have to kick him to the curb. I'm not getting any younger. I'd like to have a baby or two one of these days and as much as I love Logan, sometimes, he's just a big goof. Look at him. Your husband is the picture of class and restraint. God bless him he's hot, but Logan is the poster child for attention deficit disorder. And look at that trench coat he insisted on wearing. It's not even raining."

"So what? He's making a fashion statement."

"Oh, he's making a statement alright, but it has nothing to do with fashion!"

"Don't be so hard on him, Dee. His heart's in the right place."

Clearly nervous, Logan shuffled beside Hannibal as both men entered a large lounge. It was obvious to all concerned that Logan didn't want to leave, but couldn't find a convincing enough reason to alter the travel plans.

Hannibal turned, obviously very carefully attending several large groups of men now entering the area similarly dressed. Logan leaned in and whispered, "Before this whole thing starts and everything gets crazy I just wanted to say that if you need me, I'll quit my job if I have to so I can stay and help. Just give me the word and after this whole insane event, we're back in your car."

A shiver ran up Hannibal's spine.

"That won't be necessary, Logan. You're taking a very big step right now and must concern yourself with your employment status. It would be imprudent for you to chance your job security in order to assist when I am perfectly capable of attending to the needs of my family."

Logan put up his hands and waved away Hannibal's suggestion, pardoning, "I'm sorry, Doc…I didn't mean to make it sound like I thought you couldn't protect Clarice or little man…it's just…"

Again, the shiver as Hannibal realized he would be forced to placate.

"I understand you wish only the best for my family. There is no need for apologies any more than there is a need for you to remain," Hannibal paused. There were several men now moving around them in the immediate area wearing very long trench coats, matching the garment Logan, too, was sporting. Seeing that time was drawing very near, Hannibal's mind processed quickly as a thought insisted on itself.

"Logan?"

The younger man turned quickly, his eyes hopeful as he questioned, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Not immediately, but if in the near future, I contacted you and requested a favor would you attend to it without delay? No questions asked?"

Logan's heartbeat pounded as his hero, the man he admired above all others, presented a sincere, if impulsive request.

"Doctor Lecter, you just call me anytime day or night and I promise on little man's life, I'll drop anything and everything to take care of your request immediately. No questions asked. Ever."

Hannibal nodded, extending a hand. Logan accepted, shaking Hannibal's hand with enthusiasm.

"Thank you, Logan. While I'm not anticipating the need, it is comforting to know I can count on your friendship of the need arises. You've been a loyal friend and your companionship and support has been greatly appreciated."

Again, Hannibal's eyes shifted as the men, fifty or more, began to close in. He watched as they very slowly reached for the belts around their waists. Logan's attention too, turned to the men. He faced Hannibal, worried.

"This might not go well, Doc."

Hannibal shook his head.

"I'm quite confident in your abilities. Excuse me, I'll leave you to handle it. I believe my work here is done."

Hannibal moved with lightening speed away from Logan. The men, now circled, surrounded Logan in a horseshoe formation in the middle of the common space.

"Clarice, please come here."

"H?"

"Now, Clarice."

Time a concern, Hannibal signaled for Clarice to join him, waving her over as if the baby needed her. Ardelia stood still in the middle of the space directly across from Logan. Logan stripped off the coat he was wearing, revealing an all-white outfit. Suddenly, the fifty additional people stripped off their coats. All too, wearing white. Before Ardelia could question what was happening, 'I Want It That Way' by the Backstreet Boys started booming out over the speakers in the lounge. Someone tossed Logan a microphone and he immediately began crooning along with the song as he began boy-band dancing toward Ardelia, surrounded by his backup singers, dancing behind and beside him with perfect synchronization and meticulous choreography.

Clarice, realizing Logan had orchestrated a flash mob in the lounge of the airport, stepped aside, laughing as she teased, "_Uh-oh_, I think _someone _must have called your_ daddy_."

Ardelia grabbed for Clarice's coat as Logan sauntered toward her, doing his best karaoke version of Aaron Carter. He grabbed his girlfriend very loosely around her waist, dancing circles around her, surrounded by doppelgangers performing a line dance.

Ardelia clutched at her friend, embarrassed but not, laughing as she tried to grasp Clarice's arm, shouting, "Don't you dare leave me, Clarice."

Pulling her arm from Ardelia's grip, Clarice escaped, teasing, "Sorry girl, you're on your own with this one."

Trotting off to the side quickly, Clarice joined Hannibal, the pair watching on as Logan, along with the fifty backup dancers he hired. Perfect timing showed he had put a good deal of effort into the project, memorizing the dance and teaching it to others. As the music came to an end it was obvious that Logan had, indeed, pulled off an impressive version of the song complete with a spinning move on his heels at final line that ended with him on bended knee. Logan then reached into his pocket flipped open a velvet box with a flourish, and presented the ring.

Still out of breath from the exertion, Logan panted, "I…love you…Dee…marry me?"

Ardelia smiled.

"You're crazy, you know that?"

Quickly recovering when he realized Ardelia was happy, Logan flashed a charming smile, adding with a playful glint in his eye, "Yeah, but I'm_ your _kind of crazy. I thought you might want to make it official."

"My dad?"

"Yup, done! Who would have thought it, but I'm _his_ kind of crazy, too!"

"Okay, crazy-man! Let's do this!"

Taking her hand, he placed the ring on her finger, stood and put his arms around her.

The moment the pair kissed, the room erupted in applause.

Hannibal slipped an arm around Clarice. Comfortable, she nestled her face alongside his neck.

"So, you knew about this?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Logan asked that I not."

"Hmm…bro-code?"

"Indeed."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's note: Forgive the delay in posting- Hurricane Sandy left me without electricity for more than six days. Since there was little to do aside from writing (longhand on a legal pad!) this chapter is almost three times the size of my normal postings. Consider it my thanks for your patience!**

**If the mood strikes you, please consider reviewing. I respond to all reviews (unless you're signed in as a guest- I don't have the option of replying to those.) I worked hard on this chapter so I'd love to know what you're thinking!**

**THE TIME HAS COME**

Heavily laden with the burdensome yoke of grief, Hannibal placed his left hand on his knee and pressed down, his right palm forced flat on the snow. The mournful father and husband stood slowly, straightening his body as best he could, surrounded by the bloody remnants of his family. His body shaking with a combination of anguish and rage, he turned toward the cabin where Lady Murasaki stood silent to his pain. Vengeful, Hannibal stalked across the deep snow, his frozen boots kicking up clumps of blood soaked ice, a horrific and gory slurry of human remains.

Stomping his feet on each timbered step, to both shake off the bits of flesh and bone and, too, to steel his resolve, he gripped the handrail with hate in his heart and death burning in his flame-like eyes. He ascended with a look of menace that should chill to the bone, but there stood Lady Murasaki: a study of grace and dignity, her hands primly clasped in front of her body as if the carnage had never taken place. Her indifference, no, her blindness to this most devastating loss enraged him. Hannibal's anger elevated with each step he took, reaching a boiling point the moment his boot struck the landing. Slowly he prowled forward but as Hannibal approached, instead of shrinking in fear, again, blind to the emotion of the event, she draped her arms over his shoulders, and cupped the back of his head. As Lady Murasaki stroked her fingers lovingly through his hair she pulled him toward her, readying for a kiss.

Hannibal turned his head as if to assent, slowly lowering his body, so much taller now than hers. Instead of seeking her lips, he placed his very lightly at her throat. As Hannibal tenderly mouthed the flesh where her chin so elegantly sloped into her neck, the lady surrendered a sigh of such longing it would have stirred the passion of any man.

But, Hannibal Lecter is not just any man.

Lady Murasaki tipped her head upward exposing her body to encourage what she believed would be Hannibal's passion, inviting his exploration.

Instead of the raw passion Lady Murasaki expected, Hannibal opened his mouth as widely as possible and greeted her body with primal savagery gripping her larynx between his vice-like jaws. As he clamped down, crushing her throat with animalistic strength, he pierced the flesh with his incisors and chewed the sinews with his relentless teeth. Sucking hard, his jaw worked feverishly to keep up with the flow of blood as it pumped from the arteries. Next, with the speed of a viper's strike, he torqued his head mercilessly, shredding the structure from her now limp body.

Her now flaccid frame draping from his embrace, Hannibal allowed Lady Murasaki's body to swing from his arms as he very slowly lowered the corpse to the decking. The limbs twisted and dangled, sweeping along the rough planks before touching down and folding around the body like a marionette, settling in a lifeless pile.

Chewing aggressively as he stepped back to admire the tableau, Hannibal thoroughly enjoyed the fibrous texture of the organic material, crunching loudly each time his teeth came together. With disdain, Hannibal then spat the fully masticated tissue atop the lifeless body and stepped off the deck once more onto the crimson snow.

Looking out over the frozen and bloodied landscape, his life an equally barren wasteland, Hannibal reached into his coat and fingered his shirtsleeve. Reaching for his harpy, he tugged it from its fabric sheath and turned the icy metal over, flipping it in his palm several times as he considered something more. With a look of determination, Hannibal Lecter walked over to his dead wife, bent to his knees in the snow, and gathered what little he could find of her body to him.

On his knees in the snow, huddled among the carnage, Hannibal Lecter enfolded his wife's torso in his left arm, pulling her tightly to his body. With his right hand, he thumbed the blade open, slipping the flat of his harpy beneath the waistband of his trousers, sliding it against his skin until he found his mark.

His eyes closed briefly as the sharp, frozen edge of familiar metal both burned and numbed his flesh. Surveying the bloodied field, he flipped the handle sharply until the merciless hook of the blade pierced his femoral artery, severing it in two.

Hannibal sat back in the snow with the love of his life cradled in his arms, the warmth of his blood spurting from the wound. He breathed deeply. It wouldn't be long now. Feeling lightheaded, he understood his end to be near. Just as the life ebbed from his body, Hannibal Lecter kissed the top of his beloved's head and whispered, "My blood for your blood, my Love."

His eyes closed a final time.

Life seeping, body collapsing, Hannibal's mighty head bowed, appropriately coming to rest atop hers. Just as his lungs folded, forcing out the last hissing sounds of his final breath, gasping, Hannibal's sleeping body lurched upward.

As he sucked in a sharp, sudden breath- the inhalation so loud and violent it forced Clarice awake as well, Hannibal leaned over, gasping for the air denied in his dream.

Shocked, Clarice gripped his shoulders as her husband shuddered, attempting to shake off the violent visage from his dreamscape and once more gain control of his body.

There was worry in her voice as she looked into his eyes and questioned, "Oh my god, H, not again…are you alright?"

Seeing his wife's panicked expression, thankful it was a dream and that she was safe, Hannibal gathered her in his arms, pulled her to him, and lovingly kissed the top of her head. Realizing, too, the baby was alive, well, and in his own room, at this point, Hannibal calmed. The nightmare nothing more than the images of his overactive imagination, he closed the door to his memory palace, banning, hopefully, future visitations.

His expression stoic, belying the horrific nature of the dream, he stated, "I believe the visitation of my aunt is causing a continual upheaval in my subconscious mind. As I told you, I have been having very intrusive thoughts."

Placing her palm on his sternum, Clarice posted up just enough to get a better look.

"Intrusive? Intrusive,_ how_?"

Seeking to calm any fears, Hannibal covered her hand with his own, explaining, "I have been concerned that I will unable to protect you and our children sufficiently, Clarice. That my inability to do so will put your lives at risk."

Shaking her head in vehement disagreement, Clarice enforced, "That would never happen."

Experience a painful teacher, Hannibal was not as certain as she, countering, "Why would it not? It has happened before…to me...why not again?"

"You can't allow that to haunt you. You were so young…just a little boy, H. Not much more than a baby yourself. No one would expect…"

"_I _expected, Clarice. It haunted me then. It haunts me still. It is simply the way of things for me."

Raising a concerned eyebrow knowing this wasn't the full story, Clarice pursued, "Is that all there is to it, H?"

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Hannibal sat at the edge, his head bowed as he sought to rein in the adrenalin coursing through his system.

"Is that all, Clarice? Is that not enough?"

"For most men, yes. For you…doubtful."

"How well you know me, my Love. Yes, it is much more than childhood fears. My aunt has been involved to a disturbing level in each circumstance and as her arrival draws near, the visions have reached a much more…aggressive level."

Clarice moved to the edge of the bed as well, spooning her body around his back as if seeking to protect him in some way from his own thoughts.

"Involved to a disturbing level? _Aggressive?_ What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Not wanting to make a further production of the event, Hannibal gently shrugged her from his shoulders and stood. He paced for a moment, scrubbing his fingers aggressively through his hair as he sought to clear his mind. When he believed he'd come to a less dramatic explanation, he continued, "There have been several rather elaborate deaths. Each appears to be another variation on a theme."

"Okay, not too bad so far…what's the theme?"

"In each dream, my aunt, thinking she is helping, indirectly causes our son's death."

Clarice nodded continually as if trying, with the movement as catalyst, to drive the conversation forward.

"And then what happens?"

Hannibal stalled. She wouldn't like the explanation, he knew. He walked into the master bath and turned on the shower. Clarice followed closely behind.

Realizing he was being elusive, concerned, she continued, "You didn't answer my question, H. _What_ happens?"

Again, he evaded, "To whom?"

Clarice leaned against her husband's shoulders, her breasts warming his back stirring his desire. He turned, pulling her to his body, resting his hands on the gentle slope of her bottom. Leaning over, seeking her throat, he was reminded of his dream. Nibbling at the flesh, he remembered the sensation of his teeth piercing flesh as he tenderly mouthed the soft skin beneath her chin. His mouth watered, remembering the taste of Clarice's blood, sampled the day they faked his death.

Pressing into his body and arching her neck to allow his exploration, with a combination of empathy and concern, Clarice continued, "H…In your dream, what happens to your aunt? You said before that you were having dark thoughts and since you're obviously still having them and she's on a plane heading toward us as we speak, I'd like to know what they are."

No longer impacted by, or concerned with the images from his nightmare, Hannibal was far more focused on his wife's body than thoughts of carnage or despair.

His hands smoothed over the curves as he attended to the taste of salt on her skin and the new scent evolving from her hormonal changes. In between loving bites, Hannibal spoke, "In each… dream…distraught…I cause her… death."

Her hands now exploring his body as well, Clarice encouraged both his passion and his disclosure, "How, precisely, do you cause her death?"

His hands gripping her bottom, squeezing, his fingers dug deeply into her muscle. His mouth tasting, teasing tiny pinches of flesh between his teeth, he groaned. Not wanting the conversation to continue as his needs were preempting the dream, he commented, "It…varies."

Her arousal equal, Clarice reached low, gripping him. As she stroked his body Hannibal dropped his forehead to her shoulder. Hannibal growled low, her hand moving slowly, she probed, "How did she die in your dream tonight?"

Sucking on the muscles where the line of her neck joined her shoulder, he continued, "By my hands…in a manner…of speaking."

Hannibal lifted Clarice, wrapping her legs around his waist. He turned off the shower and walked with her back to the bedroom, climbing across the bed as she hung from his body, laughing.

"Okay, H…if you're going to have your way with me, at least you can explain."

"I tore out her larynx with these." Hannibal lunged at Clarice, baring his teeth and growling playfully.

Laughing, gripping his face with her hands and turning it, pretending as if attempting to fend off his attack, she wondered, "With what…your bare hands? Your harpy?"

Hannibal busied himself, settling his wife on the bed and quickly mounting her as he nosed the fullness of her breast, teasing the tightened peak with tiny love bites.

Though he was aroused, and his intention was to make love to his wife, the dream nagged at his mind. He wasn't disturbed by the images or by the obvious link to his childhood trauma. What most antagonized Hannibal Lecter, what itched and clawed at his mind was the fact that the dream was so realistic.

Not the gore, the anguish or the pain…no, it was the fact that, in the first half of the dream, Clarice failed to heed Hannibal's warning. He asked her to stay at the wagon. He told her not to go after their son. The fact that she didn't listen brought about her death. It was her nature to act. It was her nature to save and to protect at risk to her own life. He would need to find a tangible way circumvent that instinct.

Unaware of her husband's agitation, Clarice settled under his body, allowing him entrance. As the pair began to move together, she spoke, "H? We have to pick your aunt up at the airport in the morning and you're dreaming of ripping her throat out with your bare teeth?"

Without breaking stride, Hannibal countered without worry of judgment or reproach, "So it would seem."

Still, though his body was joined with hers, Hannibal's thoughts were not of Clarice in his bed. Not of Clarice, whose body welcomed, warmed and enveloped him. Instead, his thoughts were of her death.

_You are so headstrong…so independent, my Love. Will you listen and attend when I need you to act? If your life is in my hands will you follow my lead, though it is not in your nature to do so? What can I do…what will convince you?_

Clarice looked into his eyes, he was elsewhere, she knew.

"H? Where am I in all of this?"

He shifted his focus from the serious nature of his thoughts, teasing, "Soon approaching orgasm, I would hope."

"Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H! You know what I mean."

"I do indeed. But may I make a suggestion?"

"Go."

"While I am not demeaning your interest in my subconscious thoughts, it would please me, and one would hope you as well, if you'd allow me a moment or two in this, yes? Speaking of slaughter isn't exactly foreplay, so unless you'd like me to proceed half-mast, perhaps we might momentarily table the dead aunt."

Chuckling, Clarice smoothed her hands across Hannibal's chest and patted her palm very gently over his heart. Laughing at the intimacy of the moment juxtaposed with the nature of the conversation, she quickly agreed, "Okay…I get it. Talking about killing is killing the mood."

Talking about killing…he could think of nothing more. If she had only listened…if she understood that there will be times his instincts must supersede her own.

Responding by nipping at her bottom lip and tugging, Hannibal shifted his body position by lifting Clarice's hip and hooking his elbow beneath her left knee. His mind tumbled with possibilities. This would have to make an impression. He would have to come up with something she would remember. Something that would remind her, when the moment came, something she could identify in his voice or in his eyes that would enforce the fact that all of his directions should be followed, no matter what.

"I promise, Clarice…that I will make this up to you, my Love." With that, Hannibal separated her legs more fully, probing gently. Clarice shifted as well, reaching for, and centering her husband's arousal, unaware of his concerns.

"Go ahead, big guy, this should get you fired up for the airport tomorrow. Now that you're on the runway and you're cleared for takeoff, you just try to keep the turbulence to a minimum."

"Ah, a sense of humor, have we? We shall see about that. What is there was a sudden loss in cabin pressure, Clarice. It would be followed by a sudden loss of altitude."

Hannibal plunged hard, forcing himself deeply within as Clarice clutched his shoulders, her breath hitching with the smooth, powerful force of the penetration. Finding a pleasing rhythm, Hannibal's thrusts were steady and deliberate.

Clarice hushed in his ear, "Oh, god…H…that's…perfect."

Smiling, Hannibal whispered, "It is you who is perfect, Clarice."

As her husband moved, her body rising to meet his, Clarice sighed, her head rolling over the pillow, her eyes closing briefly as she welcomed the strong ebb and flow of his movements. His hips rolled forward, lifting his body, hips hovering, peaking before crashing, once more. The pair joined, Hannibal considered his long-made comparison to Clarice and the roller pigeons. She was a risk-taker, his Clarice. As in his dreams, would that lead to her end?

_Agent Starling is a deep roller. Let us hope one of her parents was not._

Hannibal pulled back, withdrawing very slowly as he whispered his love in her ear. He wanted to reinforce that she was safe and secure. Together, their hearts pounded in hurried anticipation. Clarice expected tenderness. Hannibal, now, had other ideas.

Suddenly, a moment of clarity as Hannibal determined a course of action. Understanding that he could serve his purpose here, now, he understood, too, that Clarice wouldn't be happy. Not initially, anyway.

Pausing for a moment, Hannibal sought Clarice's gaze. He looked deeply into her eyes, grabbed his wife, crushing her body to his. Trapped against his torso and the mattress below, Clarice's movements were limited, though her arms and legs were still free.

"What are you doing, H? What's going on?"

She wasn't frightened exactly, but there was a flash of concern the moment Hannibal quickly clamped a hand over her mouth.

He hissed low in her ear, "Do you trust me, Clarice?"

Unable to speak, her eyes wide, though clearly tense, Clarice nodded.

Continuing, Hannibal questioned further, "You know that you are safe and that my only interest is your continued well being?"

Again, his wife nodded her agreement, her eyebrows knitted together, concerned.

Hannibal swung one of his legs, then the other, just outside Clarice's, his hardness still within his wife as he used the power of his thighs and calves to pull his wife's legs closed.

Clarice struggled for a moment, mumbling beneath his palm in an attempt to ask him his motives. Ignoring her questioning expression, his eyes burned with a look she had never seen before. It was a terrifying expression. Not meant, she thought, to frighten, but perhaps…no…his motivation eluded her.

His wife wriggling beneath him, she moved her hands from their caress of his body to grip his wrist, attempting to pull his hand from her mouth.

Grappling to regain control, he gripped one of her arms and moved it across her body, pinning it beneath his ribs. A moment later, he crossed the other arm over the first, trapping them both.

Now concerned, Clarice began to thrash, bucking her hips in an attempt to move him. His body dead weight, try as she might, she was unable to shift him.

_What are you doing? What's your purpose? You're starting to worry me, H…_

Hannibal could see the questions flashing in her eyes.

He leaned close, his body holding hers firm, careful of the baby he was certain was growing within.

His words more a warning than encouragement, he growled. "Patience. Trust."

Hannibal then wrapped his legs tightly around her body, hooking his ankles over her shins, his own shins and feet pinning her down, unmoving. Her arms folded over her chest, her legs, for the most part, closed and trapped within his, Clarice stilled her movements to conserve her energy. She began to process the events, as she understood them, but could find no answer. He was loving, romantic…playful even, one minute, aggressive and what she could only describe as intense and distant the next. Her eyes searched his for any hint of his intention, but there was only the burning intensity she could not recognize.

_I don't recognize that look in your eyes…what are you trying to tell me, H? _

Hannibal began to move once more, his thrusts, long, slow, and very deliberate. His eyes intently fixed on hers.

Clarice's movements were confined to the moments when Hannibal withdrew slightly; as he withdrew slightly, preparing to thrust once more, Clarice was momentarily able to move slightly from the bed. Instead of panicking, she used this opportunity to show him she trusted his judgment, rocking her hips slightly to meet his.

With each thrust, Hannibal made minute adjustments, listening for a cue until his wife whimpered, gripping his shoulders, clutching his body tightly to her own.

Coiling his body further around hers to keep Clarice firmly in his grip, he forced her body firmly to the mattress, pushing hard as he confirmed, "There, yes?"

Confined, her body on fire, his hand still covering her mouth, she was barely able to draw breath, much less speak. Hannibal quickly uncovered her mouth, giving her voice. The friction perfectly placed, her body vibrating with pleasure she could manage no more than a soft moan as she gasped out with each thrust of his hips, "It's…per…fect."

"Let us hope you will agree in a moment. Trust, yes?"

Clarice nodded. "Yes…I trust you."

Covering her mouth once more, Hannibal's body was so accurately aligned with Clarice's erogenous zone that when he stirred, rolling his hips in a circular motion as he thrust, the motion created such intensity that within four or five additional strokes his wife began moaning loudly from beneath his tightly clasped hand. The vibration tickling his palm, the sensual sound was music to his ears.

Lady Murasaki momentarily forgotten, the pair gripped one another, muscles rippling and straining as their bodies aligned. Hannibal's breath huffed in her ear, Clarice panting quickly, the exhalations breezing over his hand as their passions peaked.

Hannibal's hips bucked, very slowly tipping Clarice over the edges of ecstasy. Every muscle in his body taut, he pressed forward, pushing her for more as he growled low,

"Now, my Love, you shall come for me...and remember…trust…"

Hannibal called out to his love, growling her name as he shifted the hand that covered her mouth to cover her nose, as well, denying her oxygen.

Their hearts pounding as their bodies crashed together, shuddering violently as they surrendered themselves to the beginnings of their combined ecstasy. Hannibal covered Clarice's nose. Denying her next breath. The hand over her nose distracting, Clarice began to thrash once more, but Hannibal held firm.

She panicked for several seconds until she realized he was continually uncovering her nose for a split second, controlling her breath to time with each thrust. Finally relaxing, Clarice followed Hannibal's lead breathing with the timing he set, allowing her orgasm to bloom once more.

Breathing shallow and fast, she inhaled sharply, quivering, her muffled whimpers smothered beneath the pressure of his hand. Internally, her body now gripped his, her most sensitive muscles undulating around him, squeezing rhythmically. The breath play enhancing her focus, escalating her ecstasy, Hannibal pushed her off the edges of control, her body in full spasm as the orgasm conquered with a force she had never experienced.

The moment Hannibal sensed her end he quickly released his hold on her body, lifting his chest to unleash her arms. He spun his legs, allowing hers to open, fully releasing his control.

White-hot passion seared their nerve endings as their bodies pulsed, throbbing, gripping, clutching, pulling, together as their breath came harsh and fast. Hannibal relentlessly crashed his hips against his wife's now that she, too, was free to express her lust. Clarice's eyes briefly rolled, the experience emotionally overwhelming, her heart punching against her ribs, uncontrolled.

Hannibal cradled her head against his chest, but Clarice, the rapture too intense to ignore, bit the flesh of his pectoral muscle, holding fast.

"Harder, Clarice. Allow the emotion to overtake you, my Love."

In spasm, her jaws clenched, without realizing the power of her bite, the teeth pierced flesh, allowing warm blood to flow.

Feeling the blood tracking from the wound, Hannibal encouraged, "Yes, taste, Clarice."

His wife's passion overtaking her, Hannibal's belly burned for release. Unable to control himself a moment more, he thrust, biting his lower lip as he stared intently into his wife's eyes, now blazing with passion, as he gave himself over to this overwhelmingly charged sexual experience.

Holding one another quietly for several minutes, still trembling in one another's arms, neither lover spoke.

This climax was far more intense than anything Clarice had ever experienced she was unprepared for the power.

His passion fevered, Hannibal kissed her hard, the blood in her mouth still warm as his mouth crushed against hers.

Now aware there was blood in her mouth, tasting the warm metallic fluid that had seeped from the wound unintentionally created, she flinched, pushing away from his body.

"Is that my blood? Is my lip bleeding?"

Smiling, Hannibal placed Clarice's hand over the bite mark, still weeping blood.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry, H."

"There is no need, my Love. You are magnificent in orgasm."

The act completed, they recovered quickly and resumed their conversation as if nothing had passed between them, holding one another as they spoke.

Clarice skimmed a palm over the soft hairs growing thicker at the center of his chest, assessing how she felt about the situation. As she took her own emotional inventory, her head rested over his heart, listening to the strong beating. Believing she may have found the key to the events, sliding her hand along his ribs, hugging tightly, she encouraged, "You were about to tell me what part I've played in your nightmares, H. Go on."

Cradling his wife, in an intense, post-coital moment of vulnerability, as in his dream, Hannibal found himself continually kissing the top of Clarice's head. His tone of voice taking on sensitivity that was not present earlier, he explained, "As the dreams go, generally, our son predeceases you, but your death, equally violent in nature, soon follows. Hence the reason, in the dream, I am so distraught. As happened in my childhood, my weakness…my…inadequacies, cost me everything."

Feeling a slight shudder, sensing the pain her husband shielded so well, Clarice kissed Hannibal's chest, assuring, "You were not weak or inadequate, H. Like I said before, you were a child."

Hannibal, not needing or seeking consolation, asserted, "Whether or not I understand, now, what my circumstances were at the time, it means little to the dead, Clarice. All that matters is that I could not defend what was mine to protect. If I am ever in that position again, trust that I would do anything, anything at all to secure your safety. Know, Clarice, that I will kill anyone posing a threat to our family. Rest assured, I shall gladly sacrifice my last drop of blood, my last breath, to save you or our children."

Curiosity overwhelming, Clarice remained silent about the sexual encounter. Resting on his side, Hannibal brushed an errant curl from Clarice's forehead, noticing her quizzical expression.

"Ask, my Love."

"Why did you hold me down, H?"

"It has to do with my dream, Clarice."

"Trust? Do I die in your dreams because I didn't trust you?"

"Yes. My instincts run contrary to yours, and though I ask you to follow my directions, you follow your own instincts. I need to know you will trust me to take care of you- to fill your needs without question. This sexual experience was contrary to our customary rituals. I wanted you to see that your instincts are not always accurate. You attempted to stop me on several occasions during the experience, yes?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

" I don't know…I guess I thought it would hurt."

"Did it?"

"No…the contrary. It was unbelievable."

"So following my lead and trusting my instincts rather than immediately giving in to your own was pleasurable?"

"It was overpowering, H…I never would have thought…it was unbelievable."

"Remember that feeling, Clarice. If ever I ask you to do something, no matter how contrary it may seem…trust, my Love. Though yours are highly developed, my instincts, due to my physical gifts, are superior in many ways. Please allow me to care for you. Will you do that for me, Clarice?"

"Yes, H."

"Without question or comment? You will act, that is all?"

"Sure, H…I trust you."

"Thank you, Clarice. Know that I love you more than life itself and will always have your best interests in mind."

Though it was the thing she most wanted to Hannibal was not the type of man that required conventional emotional support. That kind of coddling would be seen as a perceived weakness- an insult to his intelligence. He had no such need. He wanted only to let her know, she was safe; that he would die before harm would come to his family.

He needed only her confirmation.

"I know, H…I know."

* * *

The time had come.

In no rush, Hannibal carried his son in the crook of his left arm firmly gripping the child's thigh for security as they entered the airport. Stepping through the door, Clarice's hand clasped tightly in his right, they walked through the terminal to meet Lady Murasaki.

Seeking to define the circumstances, Hannibal "I hope you are prepared, Clarice. This meeting may be…awkward."

Excited to meet the woman that helped her husband through so much of the trauma inflicted in his early life, she couldn't understand the comment. Looking up, she clutched his hand tightly and questioned with all innocence, "Why, H? Why awkward and not excited?"

Hannibal swirled his thumb in the center of his wife's palm as he held Clarice's hand. The action seemed, to Clarice, to be pensive. Perhaps it was her husband's way of processing the events as he remembered them. She wasn't sure of the psychology behind the action, but was certain the movement was not extraneous.

He spoke honestly, no hint of angst or remorse- just a retelling of facts.

"The last time I saw my aunt, she told me there was nothing left of me to love. I suspect, knowing what she knows of me now, she is not of the same mind, but it does not alter what was said."

Clarice tugged at her husband's arm, stopping him in his tracks. Surprised, Hannibal turned, arching his eyebrow and uttered, "Clarice? Is something wrong?"

Now standing face-to-face, she squared her shoulders, asserting, "She wouldn't say that now, and she didn't mean it when she said it, H. She was probably just upset at the time. You _were_ killing a man in front of her."

"Not just any man, Clarice. This man slaughtered my sister, ate her, and fed her to me. If any man deserved to die at my hands…"

He failed to finish the sentence.

Clarice understood the emotion behind the comment and thus, didn't pursue, instead commenting, "Don't dwell on it and everything will be fine."

"You needn't placate, Clarice, I have no such need, and whether she meant them or not, words spoken cannot be unspoken."

Clarice released her husband's hand and slipped her arm under his unbuttoned coat, holding him close. She understood he had no need for this comfort, but she knew he would understand she needed it.

"Of course, you're right…it's just that…I…I can't…I can't even…begin to imagine what that was like. I'm so sorry, H."

"There is no need, Clarice. I simply wanted you to understand the dynamic."

The pair began to walk once more, Clarice's long legs matching stride with her husband as the couple walked in step through the airport to find the appropriate arrival gate. Hannibal appeared calm but reserved as Clarice surveyed the area. Nervous energy turning her mind, she offered, "The airport is crowded, H. Maybe we should have carried a sign with her name on it? You haven't seen her in more than 50 years and she's much older now, so doubt she's changed."

Hannibal was obviously unconcerned.

"I would know her, Clarice. If not by sight, then by scent."

Again, Clarice tugged her husband's arm, pulling him to a stop. "Did you just say by _scent_, H?"

Hannibal tugged back, this time reeling his wife into his body, as he corrected, "Not _that _scent, Clarice."

Without thinking of how ridiculous the thought might be, Clarice worried, "Well…you were not much older than a teenager when you left Europe and came to America. You haven't seen her since, so, maybe she won't recognize you. We should have taken that into consideration."

Hannibal chuckled. The thought that there was anyone connected to him in any way that was not fully aware of his appearance was, of course, absurd.

He countered, "How many people in this airport, or, in this world for that matter, have maroon irises, Clarice? She'll not forget that, and it isn't as if my face is unknown to the world. Keep in mind we have lived a very open and very public life, as of late. I am quite certain she has our features memorized."

Hannibal looked over his shoulder, noticing people noticing him.

"Not to mention, we're the couple that draws the crowds, Clarice. She need only follow the stares."

Looking around, Clarice noticed several people looking and pointing in their direction. Now accustomed to the attention and no longer offended by the gawking, she paid little mind to the people pointing and commenting as they passed. Though not all were insulting a fair share were derogatory. The name, Hannibal the Cannibal, was spoken in whispers as they passed.

When they were first married, Clarice would have responded aggressively, challenging any and all who might have dared to make that, or any other, comment. Today each and every one of them was summarily ignored.

Noticing the change, kissing the top of Clarice's head, Hannibal slipped his hand over his wife's hip. Settling his large palm over her swelling abdomen as he cupped his hand over his growing child, he spoke softly, "Secure in our love, now, Clarice?"

Covering his hand with her own, she snuggled against his body, questioning, "What? How can you ask me that, of course I am, H. What the heck's that supposed to mean?"

Smiling wryly, Hannibal made verbal note of the change, speaking quietly, "I have noticed as of late that you no longer feel the need to come to my continual defense, Clarice. You are either confident in our marriage and secure in our love or you are conceding to the comments...which is it, I wonder?"

"Conceding? No way. I just figure, screw it. Let them talk and let them stare. It doesn't change how we feel about each other. It doesn't hurt us…hell, they _wish_ they had it this good."

He smoothed his palm over his growing child, his son sleeping soundly, his tiny face tucked safely alongside his father's neck, breath warming the flesh.

Hannibal Lecter, husband and father, was a fully contented man.

"Indeed."

Crowds began moving from the gate signaling that the flight had disembarked. It wouldn't be long before Hannibal's eyes fell upon the woman who had, in the months and years after his family's death, meant so much to him. She had also turned her back on him, leaving him at a very sensitive stage in his life without benefit of a support system or the unconditional love that comes with family life.

Clarice was excited, beaming, "I'm sure this will be good for you, H. To have family again."

His right hand settled possessively on his wife's belly, Hannibal continually stroked his thumb back and forth over the gentle curve. He was no where near as enthused as she, replying definitively, "You and my children are all the family I require and while this woman deserves my respect, Clarice, do not expect me to entertain her. She is, if you will remember our agreement, _your_ guest."

Resting her head on his chest, she clarified, "I remember the arrangement, H, but she's your family. I expect you to treat her that way. No throat tearing or any other such nonsense. Understood?"

Laughing at her flippant reply, Hannibal stated with no small hint of sarcasm, "I will take the utmost care, though if things take a turn…"

"Don't be such a wiseass, H."

"Heaven forbid, Clarice."

Hannibal and Clarice waited patiently for Lady Murasaki to arrive. As the people retrieved their luggage they slowly filtered through the queue. Hannibal turned, something drawing him to face a very specific direction.

Knowing his senses must have directed his movements, Clarice turned as well, searching. Slowly, the crowds began to part, revealing a small, elegant, Asian woman standing very still, searching.

The moment her eyes fell upon Hannibal, they twinkled with recognition.

"My Hannibal?" she beamed, arms outstretched with obvious affection.

Hannibal approached, his son in his arms, his wife by his side, and bowed respectfully.

"If that is how you wish to address me, yes, I am Hannibal."

She immediately wrapped her arms around them all. Hannibal's body remaining rigid, his son's relaxed, even as she clutched them close. Now wide-awake, young Hannibal, ever curious and attentive, watched with a cautious eye. His large, clear eyes shifted from Lady Murasaki to his father, and back again, making it obvious he was attending to his father's reaction for cues.

"Lady Murasaki, please allow me to present my lovely wife."

"Mrs. Lecter, you are as lovely in person as was obvious through our correspondence. I am very pleased to meet you."

Clarice accepted the hug that was quickly offered.

"I'm pleased to meet you as well. Please, call me Clarice."

"Thank you, Clarice. And you will call me Aunt. I already feel as if we're family."

"It has been a long time since I had an aunt, thank you. I feel the same way."

Hannibal waited for the women to coo over one another, standing patiently. When their attention turned once more, he shifted his son, the boy's back at his belly, sitting comfortably on Hannibal's folded arms.

"And this fine young man is our son, Hannibal."

Lady Murasaki's eyes swelled, hot with emotion the quickly spilled over. She reached across and shook his tiny hand, the boy smiling widely.

"You have no idea, young man, how loved you are." She turned to Hannibal and asked, "May I hold him? Would that be alright?"

Hannibal paused. Clarice, not wanting Hannibal to refuse, scooped her son in her arms and handed him to his great-aunt.

Lady Murasaki rested her cheek against the baby's, tears rolling down her face. She pressed him to her, hugging him tightly.

Young Hannibal patted her shoulder. Not at all afraid, he was perfectly pleased to be held. She kissed him on the cheek.

"Precious boy…my precious, precious nephew, how loved you are."

The words rang in Hannibal's ears, the irony too perfect. Soon they would once more share a home. As a young man for a time, that was his dream, but those feelings, that life, was no more than a distant memory.

This life, his with Clarice and the children, was his dream. Lady Murasaki, welcome as she was, had become his nightmare. His dream had come true. Hannibal Lecter prayed silently that his nightmares would not.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's note: Happy Birthday this week to my dear friend, Lora…Twin!**

**I'll be taking a brief break from the fic- details on my profile. Thanks for understanding!**

**HANNIBAL'S LAIR**

Hannibal politely directed Lady Murasaki to sit in the front passenger seat, not wanting her to interact to a great degree with his son. The car ride was disturbingly quiet with Hannibal's eyes fixed on the road ahead, his mind obviously elsewhere.

This situation aside, Hannibal was additionally preoccupied. He'd spoken to Mr. Cervelli not two hours earlier and had received information about the future location of two of the dealers. Driving his family home, he considered his next move. Though he was certain there were dozens of lower-level soldiers, of the eight high-level gang members, six remained. Taking two out at once would indeed be a fortunate circumstance. Hannibal understood that he needed to eliminate as many of the larger threats as possible before Chavez became suspicious and moved on him. Chavez would be the final element.

_If you cut off the head…the body dies. Chavez is the head. I must get to him as soon as possible without revealing my hand. My family must be kept safe…at all cost._

Feeling comfortable facing them individually, now, or because of this new information, in pairs, this move was a necessity. The good doctor understood it would be next to impossible to defeat them en masse. He operated the car quietly as he planned the deaths of two men the following day.

Clarice watched her son look out the window, fascinated as the scenery passed. He was, thankfully, unaware of the tension in the car. Not accustomed to sitting anywhere but beside her husband, Clarice was surprised that she was asked to sit in the back seat, but didn't question Hannibal's motivation. She assumed he wanted to spend time with his aunt, but was now unsure, realizing that Hannibal had no intention of encouraging conversation. This seating arrangement, it dawned, was his way of controlling the topic of conversation, which was, for the most part, non-existent. Their positions in the car seemed quite explicit. It limited the physical interactions between this woman, whom he had not seen nor heard from in decades, and his treasured family. Clarice now understood that Hannibal wasn't certain of his aunt's motivations. She, too, was now unsure, and decided to watch her husband for future cues.

Clarice surveyed Hannibal's expression in the rear view mirror. Though he seemed intently focused, somehow she didn't believe he found the drive home that engrossing. He seemed lost in thought, causing Clarice to wonder if it was past worry, or perhaps the present stress of this visit, that fueled his apparent disturbance. Either way, Hannibal was agitated and by and large, that was not a good thing.

* * *

The moment they arrived home Hannibal immediately excused himself, suggesting that his wife would be a far more appropriate tour guide to help acquaint Lady Murasaki with the home. He retired quickly to the music room with his son, seeking to avoid additional interaction. The presence of his son would calm his mind and focus his attention on the task ahead. Two men would soon die at his hands, but his son would be safe another day and Hannibal considered that a fair tradeoff.

As her husband played piano and premeditated his macabre task, Clarice walked Hannibal's aunt to the wing recently vacated by Ardelia and Logan. After familiarizing her with the bedroom, sitting room and bathroom, she toured her through the home showing her each and every room with the exception of the music room. She intentionally left that area until the last. It would be up to Hannibal whether or not they would be welcomed.

Finally, when they'd seen all they could, Clarice walked toward the music room- she and Hannibal's aunt conversing as they walked through the halls toward their destination, Hannibal's lair.

Hearing the plaintive intonation of Chopin's D flat major prelude, Clarice understood Hannibal's mood to be pensive…maybe a bit melancholy. Lady Murasaki cocked her head slightly, listening for a moment before whispering, "What does he do with your son while he plays?"

Clarice paused, knowing this music reflected Hannibal's mood. He clearly wasn't as happy to see his aunt as Clarice might have hoped. As they descended the stairs, though concerned, she answered the question with as upbeat a tone as she could muster.

"Now that the baby can sit up on his own, Hannibal carefully positions him on his lap as he plays. He wants our son to watch his hands as he listens to the music. H is totally convinced it will enhance the baby's intellect."

Lady Murasaki nodded as if she'd expected the response, confiding, "Hannibal's mother did the same with her children. I remember Hannibal as a young boy sitting beside her on the piano bench, his sister sitting on their mother's lap. Hannibal was quite the musician. His mother had quite a time teaching him, though."

"Why is that?"

"He has that extra middle finger. It made the fingering suggestions unworkable. She had to reconfigure each piece specifically for him."

"_Had_ an extra finger. He removed it to help him avoid detection."

"I'm sorry to hear that. As a young boy, he was quite proud of that hand. He felt it made him special."

"Everything about H is special."

"His sister as well. Hannibal and she were extremely gifted. Perhaps Hannibal more so, though Mischa was so young when she died who knows how bright she may have become… Hannibal, though…he was very, very special. Brilliant beyond reason, almost frighteningly so though he was an old soul even as a young boy."

Turning down the long hallway, Clarice mused, "I often wondered what kind of a little boy he was…if he was playful, or mischievous."

Lady Murasaki spoke very quietly, not wishing to be overheard. She had no way of knowing just how finely tuned his senses could be.

"Hannibal was not mischievous in the least. He was actually very…it was so long ago, a different time, really...how can I explain what it was like for children then? He was high born on both sides, his parents were aristocrats and quite rich, though now that he has access to his family's wealth, no doubt you know that. His father, a count, was raising Hannibal to be quite the young prince until the war. When his parents were killed, I think Hannibal considered it his responsibility to carry on their teachings. He was quite serious about honoring their memory by being the perfect gentleman. I see nothing has changed."

_Discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me…_

Clarice smiled, "No, nothing about H ever changes. He's as constant as the Northern star."

They arrived at the music room. Though she knew the door was not closed to her, she wasn't entirely certain Hannibal's aunt would be welcomed within. Unsure of the protocol, Clarice paused outside the door, leaning her palm on the warm wood, knowing he sensed her presence, awaiting a response.

Not realizing why they paused, but obviously intensely curious, she questioned, "How long will he keep the baby with him?"

Smoothing her palm across the warm wood before removing her hand, Clarice took a step away from the door. Though she was listening to Hannibal's aunt and answering each question posed, Clarice found herself wondering why Hannibal hadn't drawn attention to their presence in the hall.

_What's going on, H…should I stay or go? Is the baby is sleeping and you don't want to chance waking him up?_

She decided to remain a moment longer, answering Lady Murasaki though poised to leave, qualifying, "To be honest, they might be in there for hours. The little guy never seems to tire of it and H is so in love with being a father, he'll hold him even if the baby falls fast asleep. I've gone in there to find Hannibal playing and the baby sleeping soundly with his back leaning against his daddy's chest and stomach. The little guy's perfectly comfortable resting on his dad while he naps."

"Hannibal's parents never held their children once they fell asleep. His father was very proper and old-fashioned. The Lecter men were strict with their children. Neither Hannibal's father, nor Robert, presumably, would have pampered a son in that way…"

If this behavior was seen as unusual, Clarice decided Hannibal must hold on to his son because of his early losses. Especially if he held Dev far more than his parents held him. Her mind turned with questions as Lady Murasaki rambled on about her dead husband's views on raising the child they never had.

_Did they put you to bed the moment you fell asleep or before, H? Did you rest on your bed wide awake at night, alone in the dark with your mother's smile on your mind? Do you hold Dev so long because of the loss you felt when you were left alone? What were you like as a boy, H, so alone in the world…I know what that feels like…to have no one to turn to…we have each other, H._

Lady Murasaki obviously believed Hannibal was pampering his son. The Lady's tone reflected disapproval with Hannibal's process, commenting, "To be perfectly honest, I'm surprised the boy tolerates it. Lecter children are very independent."

Instantly defensive of her husband, Clarice's retort was supportive, "He more than tolerates it. He loves every minute of it. He would sit through anything on his father's lap and he has no need to be independent- he's not even a toddler, for Christ's sake. He's brilliant, curious…he's his daddy's boy, for sure."

Suddenly feeling nostalgic, Lady Murasaki's eyes took on a faraway look. She began retelling joyfully, "Hannibal always did have a natural way with children. His sister was absolutely in love with him, and he was absolutely devoted to her, sitting with her for hours. As a matter of fact, I don't think he ever ran out of patience when it came to Mischa. I remember a time when he was six or so, the family came to Paris to visit Robert and I. Hannibal was the most brilliant boy. He sat with his sister and…"

Suddenly, as if interrupting the conversation purposely, a voice came from behind the door. Hannibal's lush baritone called out calmly, "My Love, you may enter. As I have told you many times, the door may be closed but never to you."

Lady Murasaki was surprised by the invitation, questioning, "How did he know we were out here? Could he hear us?"

"Probably, but he caught our scent long before we reached the door. That's why I waited. To see if he would invite us in."

Clarice opened the door, allowing Lady Murasaki to enter, following closely.

"I hope we aren't disturbing you, H. We've toured the house, this was the last stop."

"Last but not least I would hope, my Love."

Though Clarice opened her mouth indicating she was about to answer, Lady Murasaki chimed in, "_Never_ least, Hannibal."

Hannibal arched a suspicious eyebrow and commented with a censorial growl, "Hmm, never _indeed_."

Standing smoothly, his bearing ever elegant, he pushed the bench away from the piano using the backs of his legs. Smiling softly, he approached his wife and handed her their sleeping son. Brushing his fingertips up and down her arms as his wife accepted their son, with quiet calm and the most tender of emotion in his tone, he spoke, "My dearest wife might you please tend young Hannibal for me? He's only just fallen asleep and I trust his nap would be more restful if our son is placed in his crib. Would you handle that in my stead, Clarice?"

Though Hannibal was gentle and asked politely, Clarice was disturbed as she stood holding their son. Perhaps disturbed was an exaggeration, but she was puzzled and didn't attempt to shield the confused look on her face.

"But, H…you always…"

Her husband's understated look of reproach halted Clarice's query.

_What's up, H…you always insist on putting Devyni down for his nap. It's your special time together. Why ask me to handle it, when I know how much it means to you both?_

Not wanting to alarm, he brushed a hand along the side of her face and quietly maintained, "If you will, please, my Love."

Her eyes still questioning, Clarice conceded to his request, "Sure, H…I can handle it if that's what you want. No worries."

"It is. Thank you."

Clarice held their son, but as the boy was already soundly asleep, she made no move to immediately exit the room assuming Hannibal wanted her to leave with his aunt. She had no idea he wished for his aunt to remain and his wife to leave.

Seeing that Clarice was waiting to accompany Lady Murasaki, Hannibal clarified his intentions.

"If you'd take care of that without delay, I would be appreciative, Clarice."

Clarice paused, unsure.

Continuing, Hannibal asserted calmly, "That will be all for the moment, thank you, Clarice. If you will please excuse us, I should like a word with my aunt. Alone."

Realizing he wanted to talk to his aunt privately, Clarice, though confused and a bit hurt walked beside Hannibal as he walked beside her to the door, escorting her from the room as she carried their child.

Standing in the doorway staring at her husband's hand on the handle, she turned to face him once more. Wanting to know his intention, she requested, "Ushering me out the door without even a kiss, H?"

Realizing how gruff the request may have appeared to his wife, Hannibal softened, "My apologies, Clarice."

He brushed his fingers along her cheek, sliding his hand beneath her hair to gently cupping her neck. Pulling very slightly to bring her closer, he leaned in and kissed her very tenderly.

"I won't be long, my Love."

Clarice, feeling much better about the situation, smiled. "Thanks, H…you take all the time you need. I'll be in the family room when you're finished here."

"We shall join you momentarily."

Clarice carried the baby from the room, glancing over her shoulder as Hannibal watched her move down the long hallway away from the music room.

Arms gripping the doorframe, Hannibal leaned into the hallway and called after her, playfully, "I shall never tire of that view, my Love."

Relieved at his humor, Clarice shot him a flirtatious glance, laughing, "Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H!"

Winking, Hannibal countered with his usual, "Heaven forbid, Clarice."

* * *

Closing the door to the woman he loved he was, thus far, unwilling to allow or admit to any feelings for his aunt until he had more information.

Hannibal walked back into the music room, passed Lady Murasaki not far from the door, and spoke candidly, "I asked my wife to leave the room because I would like to be blunt and I fear, good-natured as my wife is, she would think me unkind. I would like more information, if you would allow, and would appreciate direct answers to my questions. Can you do me that courtesy?"

Lady Murasaki folded her hands primly in front of her body, much as she had in Hannibal's dream, stating with trepidation, "Yes…certainly."

"Thank you. That being said, if I might cut to the proverbial chase, so to speak, what is the nature of your visit?"

"We are family…all the family each other has left in the world."

"That may be true in your case. It is not, however, true to my circumstances. More over, you will forgive me if I am suspicious as to your exceedingly affectionate behavior, as it is not how I remember you. Too, I am curious as to the sudden interest in my life some forty-odd years after our last parting. Especially when one considers the circumstances and the nature of that parting."

Walking up to the samurai armor she bequeathed to young Hannibal, Lady Murasaki brushed her fingers along the shoulders, speaking softly, "I have come to beg your pardon, Hannibal. I've been troubled for many years…thinking…I may have…our last moments together…they were…"

Her head lowered as her voice trailed off. Regret flooding her voice, it was obvious she had no idea how to fill the silence.

Regret not in his own vocabulary, Hannibal thought she might be waiting for him to pardon or in some way console, but he felt no compunction to do so. Instead he stated simply, "Our last moments together, if I remember correctly, included you asserting that there was nothing left within me that was worthy of love. I am unchanged, therefore, it that was indeed true, I remain unworthy of your love, yes?"

"No! No, Hannibal. I should never have said…it was…cruel."

Hannibal bristled at the comment.

"Cruel, was it? It is quite telling that you call it cruel, but have yet to say that is was untrue; not that I need affirmation from you as to my worthiness or ability to give or accept love. As to whether or not it was, in fact, cruel, being that the statement had little affect on me then or now, that point is irrelevant."

"It may or may not have affected you, Hannibal. I don't know…that is between you and god, but from that day until now, it has haunted me."

"God, dear aunt, had very little to do with that point in my life and the only person whose opinion I value is my beloved wife, Clarice. The point that your comment has haunted you, whether it is true or not, is irrelevant to my purpose, as your feelings are of little consequence to me. If you are seeking some form of penance I must counsel you to seek another confessor. I have not the aspiration to forgive nor the ecclesiastical calling necessary to provide you with absolution."

The lady stood quietly, her eyes turned downward, shamed the me her own words, "I understand how you feel…I…assumed you would be hurt, and your anger is justified. I hoped to change your feelings with my visit. I know I have no right to ask that you take me in or that you believe a word I say, but I ask that you allow me the time to earn your trust once more. There was a time when you trusted me above all others…"

Hannibal's look and tone took on the appearance and feel of the dungeon, hissing with contempt, "Firstly, I don't recall expressing any form of anger, justified or not. Secondly, there is no way in this world you can possibly know how I do or do not feel. As to whether or not I trusted you above all others…if you will recall, my entire family had been slaughtered before my eyes. Beyond you, there _were_ no others."

Sorrow filled tears slowly leached from her eyes. She stepped forward, reaching out to Hannibal, grasping his forearm, entreating, "Yes…that's what has haunted me. I was the only person you had in this world, and I turned my back on you. You needed me and I wasn't there."

Not wanting to tend to her emotional baggage, Hannibal tugged his arm from her grip.

"Though there was obvious privation, I _needed_ no one…_I _was all I had in the world and though your assistance during that time was greatly appreciated, the emotional need you perceive was, and is, _not present_. You knew me as an independent adolescent. I am now an independent man. I have no need for the same interpersonal support and…love…that you are attributing to me. I was alone. That was simply the way of things and that was quite enough until I met Clarice. You are seeing an emotional necessity in me that was not present then any more than it is present now. I don't have the same…requirements as most men…I am a singular being."

Lady Murasaki stepped behind the armor, protecting herself physically from the emotion of the conversation, as she questioned, "Singular? But…you have Clarice and young Hannibal…you have me, too…if you'd allow that."

"I do not mean singular as defining isolation but as a means to describe that I am without peer in that I do not have traditional needs."

His aunt spoke softly, clutching the cap of the armored shoulder as he hinted, "You need Clarice."

Hannibal walked to the window and stared across the great expanses of his property, looking out as if guarding the home. He clarified with a confident tone, "No, I do not _need_ Clarice. I _want_ Clarice. I need no one. Do you understand that distinction?"

"I'm sorry I didn't understand it, then. I think I'm beginning to understand it, now."

Without turning, he clasped his hands firmly behind his back, his posture straight and strong as he asserted, "I don't require your apology or your understanding."

Chancing his anger, she left her shielded space behind the armor and approached her nephew from behind.

"What do you want from me, Hannibal? I'm making an effort, here. Please…what can I do? Ask anything of me and I'll do it. Let me prove myself to you. Why won't you ask something of me? Not in the past…not even now?"

"I have in the past asked nothing of you because I wanted nothing from you. Please know that you are welcome to stay here as long as you have the desire. I owe you that for taking me in as a child and allowing for my education. As I have no want to see you harmed I shall discourage your return to Japan because I believe a life with my family will be far more comfortable than anything you might find in requisite senior housing. My personal motivation is in regards to my wife, as I believe Clarice would benefit from your presence. She lost her parents at a young age and is pregnant once more. Though she is an independent woman, motherhood is something that does not come easily to her, therefore a mother figure may prove important as she raises our family. If it is acceptable, as a gesture of our familial responsibility to one another, I will provide you with a safe and comfortable life. You will be considered a member of our family and as such, will want for nothing. All I ask in return is that you attempt to fill that maternal role as best you can."

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Hannibal. I will watch over your family…our family, no matter what."

"There will be…challenges. I am a man who has attracted a good many enemies over the years. If I give you a direction, please follow it to the letter. I cannot worry that my instructions will not be taken seriously. If my family is in danger and I am forced to act to protect them, I will expect your full cooperation. Is that acceptable?"

"More than acceptable, Hannibal. Know that I will protect them…with my life, if necessary."

Hannibal nodded, remembering his dreams, and knowing now, what he was about to leave the home to do, he hoped that when the time to act was upon her, Lady Murasaki would not be as blind to danger in reality as she appeared in his nightmares. If so, the nightmares might foreshadow an end that Hannibal could not bear to face. A life where his family was once more slaughtered before his eyes, and he was alone in the world, once more.

**Until the next chapter, my friends, **

**LH**


	31. Chapter 31

**Thank you, dear readers, for your patience. **

**LIFE OR DEATH**

Hannibal woke many hours before the women, as he had each day over the last week. He knew his son's schedule well, and learned that if he left the home by four a.m. he could attend to his activities and would be back in time for the boy's morning routine. Today would be different because today he would complete his deed. Still, he believed he would be able to greet his son as he woke, if everything went as planned. If. The sun would rise at approximately five-thirty, so he'd have the advantage of cover of night for a while, yet. Not that he needed it. He'd watched the activity for seven days and there was little variation. He could remain unseen, if that's what he wanted, though he was unsure of that fact.

The early morning was comfortable, the temperature climbing to the mid-sixties already. It was going to be a warm day, normal for November, so Hannibal was able to dress lightly, a fact that pleased him considering the activity planned. He'd asked Mr. Cervelli, as he had each day over the last week, to leave a horse fully saddled and packed with a specific list of supplies, tied out near the home. He parked his car in the customary area not far from the house. It was well shielded and easily accessible, if the need to flee should arise.

Walking down the driveway, Hannibal sighted the horse and approached with open arms, wanting to reintroduce himself to the animal. Reaching into his pocket he gripped something in his fist and extended his hand, careful to keep his palm flattened and turned upward as he presented several sugar cubes.

"Once more, my beauty. Come. A treat in exchange for a ride."

Unafraid, a sparkling hint of recognition in her eyes, the animal sauntered up to Hannibal, head low, nostrils flaring to discern the object with which she'd obviously become accustomed.

Encouraging, Hannibal offered, "Yes, it's for you…not to worry."

The animal snorted warm air across Hannibal's palm, causing him to smile. As the lips searched, stiff hairs of the horse's muzzle bristling across his hand, the mare mouthed the treat, nibbling and crunching the moment the sugar reached her tongue and rolled over her teeth.

"We are friends now, yes? And so we shall share another long ride together, though by now no doubt the territory is familiar to you."

Reaching for the mare's bridle, he gently stroked the side of her face, horses providing a connection to the Old World for Hannibal. A link to his past, a time when his sister was alive, smiling down at him as he lead their own horse around their estate. His heart warmed at the thought, as he walked around the large equine, circling to the left side, preparing to mount. Gripping the sides of the saddle as he kept the reins laced through his fingers, as he pulled himself gracefully onto the animal with one fluid motion. Adjusting his posture, he sat with perfectly upright, his back straight and strong, his shoulders wide and confident, exhibiting the elegant bearing of his noble ancestors.

"Andiamo, beauty. Let us see what trouble our friends are up to, today, shall we?"

Unconcerned with detection this early in the morning, Hannibal pressed his heels against the animal's body, the beast bursting forward, galloping across the field. Putting the horse through her paces he alternated speeds and gaits, enjoying the feel of riding once more, both trotting and galloping across the property until he came to the area he'd been preparing. Hannibal Lecter skirted the outlying region where the dealers had constructed a looping dirt track that weaved in and around a very large stand of trees at the edge of the Patagonian forest.

Hannibal walked the animal to a gathering of large conifers, placing his hand on the trunk of a very specific tree. As he circled the perennial he pushed gently, causing the large tree to sway.

"My…this will be far too easy. Hardly any sport in it, at all. A shame, really…I shall have to find an amusing way with which to entertain myself."

Walking the track with the horse, Hannibal moved over the packed soil following a very specific route. Turning his body to consider the position of the tree in relation to the track, more confirming than doubting his plan, he searched for the advantage he'd earlier identified. He came to the spot that peaked quickly and banked to the left as it entered a curve. It was just past a very sharp turn and as such, was well concealed.

More importantly, this area was extremely close to the tree on which Hannibal had been recently working. Nodding his head, he moved quickly, dismounted, reached into the saddlebag and removed a pick and shovel. He also pulled out a flattened metal tool to tamp down the loosened soil.

_No more than a moment's work and all will be ready._

Hannibal spent the next two hours digging, and edging, totally reconfiguring the banking slope of the homemade track. He then walked to that very specific tree, located the perfect distance from the track.

_This is very devious…if I do say so myself._

He'd visited this area on and off over the last week, watering the area around the tree daily, soaking the soil around the root system.

Directing his attentions to the geometry of the situation, he made several adjustments and when he was comfortable with the angle, made the final projections. He prepared for the fall by finally destabilizing the immediate area in order to increase in the tree's tilt. Hannibal had spent the last week continuously making adjustments to the watering pattern to allow for optimal positioning.

Removing the large bags of water Mr. Cervelli had once more tied to the horse, Hannibal soaked the soil that ringed the trunk for a final time, drenching the already softened ground circling the base. The terrain was extremely loose and the tree increasingly unstable, not difficult under the circumstances as this brand of conifer had an extremely shallow root system. The tree bending low with the slightest breeze, Hannibal nodded, satisfied with his work. He moved the horse to a well constructed a blind he'd built earlier in the week, careful to keep the animal a safe and silent distance from the activity. He then found the camouflaged area he'd prepared for himself, and settled comfortably. Sitting very still, Hannibal watched.

The men arrived, as they had each day, riding a pair of quad ATVs. The pair road the track slowly, obviously checking for any dangers before throwing caution to the wind and proceeding with reckless abandon. One man was very tall, lanky, though the helmets made it impossible to distinguish their faces. The second rider was smaller, with a slight build.

_Look carefully, my friends. All will appear well._

The men moved past the area Hannibal modified, without concern.

_Yes, take your time and assess the situation. You may trust that it is quite safe…for now._

Watching as the men began circling the large loop of the track, their speed and risk-taking increasing with each lap, Hannibal timed their route to the split-second. It took more than ten minutes for the first round, by the third, the time had reduced to a six minute run from the time they'd passed Hannibal's banking turn, to return to the time they'd returned once more to the same point.

Each day, the pair circled the track a minimum of ten times. Figuring it would take them three or four passes to get comfortable with the surface and become more aggressive, Hannibal waited.

_Not enough time at that speed to see around the bend in the track. You are both quite confident and self-assured at this point. Your rash and reckless treatment of your own lives will be much to my advantage, my foolish friends._

Patience his strong suit when executing a plan, he kept one ear attuned to the approach of the dealers as he entered his memory palace, choosing once more to relive an evening with Clarice. It was a night like any other, the couple driving along the Chesapeake after an evening out. Though Clarice was pregnant and positively aglow, Hannibal was focused on a point he was making about the human condition, his insight exceptionally flawless. He recalled the precise moment he turned to the right, a snapshot in his mind, as he sought her eyes wanting to gauge her reaction as he made such an incisive point of fact.

Though he didn't expect his own reaction, the precise instant his gaze met hers, Hannibal's breath caught in his throat, the gasp so audible Clarice smiled in response. The setting sun caused an amber glow to radiate within the car creating a halo effect around Clarice's face, the scarlet and gold highlights shimmering on the surface of her auburn hair. He allowed his heart to pound then, as he allowed it to pound now, thumping his love and his want within the hollow of his chest, filling it.

_My Love, my angel…you are perfection, Clarice._

His thoughts interrupted by the sound of the engines rumbling, Hannibal closed the door to that thought, his heart still swelling with love for his wife.

_I shall tend to this and return to you, my Love. You will be safe at all cost._

Careful to cover any potentially manmade looking marks in order to make it appear as if the tree had been uprooted naturally, Hannibal was very specific in the positioning. He gently smoothed his hands over the surface of the bark, predicting the fall, as he prepared to topple the pine. Tying a large rope securely to the trunk, the circumference as thick as his wrist, he wrapped the other end around another tree, and attached it to the horse's saddle.

_This should provide the requisite force to topple the pine. _

This tree, when upended, would leave a gaping whole and no additional evidence, making it evident that not man, but Mother Nature had claimed it. With the base so dangerously compromised, Hannibal swung himself up onto the horse and with a moderate amount tugging from his mount, the tree toppled, landing on the exact spot planned.

Hannibal jumped from the horse, untied the rope and as the ATV's engines roared, the surging sounds approaching, Hannibal grabbed the animal, mounted quickly and rode up the edge of the track and out of sight.

The two men, riding side by side, banked the edge and much like a cement jersey barrier on an interstate, were immediately redirected on a collision course with the tree.

The men spotted the felled tree at the last minute, attempted to adjust their direction, but it was too late. The pair smashed against the heavy trunk, the thud of bruising muscle and crunching bone echoing through the air, mixing with the men's screams.

Walking down the edge of the embankment, hopping over the edge of the track, his eyes glowing with homicidal glee, Hannibal approached. It was obvious by the fear flooding the first man's eyes that he immediately recognized Hannibal and began wailing in grief and fear.

Unaffected by the screams, Hannibal approached the man and stood above him.

"Hello, my friends. I see you've come upon my welcome. It took me quite a while to prepare this greeting so I do hope you appreciate the effort."

Hannibal circled the area, his eyes afire, stalking.

"It is obvious God isn't in a hurry to welcome either of you or you would have died on impact. Not to worry. I'll assist you on your journey, though it is doubtful you will see heaven this day, or any other. It is far more likely your passing will take you in the opposite direction."

Lifting his bloodied limb, the compound fracture piercing his forearm, he struggled, moaning, "No…no."

Hannibal approached the tree, placed his foot on the trunk and pushed hard. The shift caused the men to moan in pain. The smile that curled across Hannibal's face was so wicked, his enjoyment of the situation so apparent, the men both closed their eyes as if the action might ban him from their final thoughts.

"_No?_ Did you say _no_? Appropriate that that should be your last words on this earth. My friend, Mr. Cervelli, asked that you vacate his property and that was your answer. I hope you don't mind, he also asked that I facilitate your departure. He may have meant from his ranch, but as he was not entirely specific, I've decided his intention must be from this life. Not to worry, your exodus will be accompanied by a respectful amount of fanfare. You will be properly escorted from this place by the medical examiner. The car and the body bags are extremely formal and customarily black, therefore your exit will be quite dignified."

The second man, upon seeing and hearing Hannibal, attempted to curl into a ball but his body wouldn't bend, the break in his back leaving him paralyzed from the waist down. He twitched and gurgled, blood foaming from his mouth, choking on his own fluids as his mute mouth opened to scream without result.

The strap of the man's helmet hanging, Hannibal slipped his hand beneath the inner portion of the helmet, lifting the protective covering from the man's head. He tossed the man's helmet to the side and tousled the man's hair.

Bending low, Hannibal taunted, "Please forgive me, I see you are in quite the hurry to move along to your next life. As I am ever the attentive host, I see that you require my attention much sooner than your friend. Not to worry. I'll be happy to see you on your way."

Bending low, Hannibal gripped the man's head as if palming a large ball. Looking into the man's eyes, he held his skull tightly, tugging it upward. The man writhed in agony as his broken body lifted from the ground. The more the man twisted and moaned it seemed the higher Hannibal tugged him upward.

Their faces only inches apart, Hannibal hissed, "I'd say that I will see you in hell, but my wife, Clarice, has been my salvation. I now only kill to protect what is mine and I don't think God would begrudge me that. As this will be your final moment among the living, breathe your last and prepare for hell, my friend."

The man opened his eyes widely, his mouth agape as if to protest but the words his mind was struggling to form formed choked in the back of his throat.

"Speechless, my friend? Yes, I'm overcome as well, though I'd venture to guess that our feelings are on opposite ends of the emotional spectrum. In any event, goodbye."

Hannibal winked and quickly spun the man's head, torqueing the cranium until he hear the loud crack of the spine snapping away from the base. Holding the head, Hannibal closed his eyes, committing the sensation of the man's twitching body to memory.

"Far too easy. Not much enjoyment at all. Forgive me. I'll do better with your friend, I promise."

Seeing and hearing all, the second man struggled as if attempting to crawl, his fingers digging and clawing at the soil in a vain effort to flee. Hannibal reached down, violently tugging the strap that secured this man's helmet to his head.

"Have you tired of my company so soon? After I've gone to all of this trouble to make your end memorable? I must say I'm extremely disappointed. Well, no matter. A good host has his guests in mind rather than his own comfort."

Searching for a way to add to his enjoyment of the event while maintaining the integrity of the scene, Hannibal sought a weapon that wouldn't raise suspicion. Noticing the quad on its side and wedged tightly against the tree, Hannibal investigated the vehicle, inspecting its operational capacity.

"Your beloved toy may provide the requisite assistance, transporting you to your next life. Let us see, together, if it is functional."

Hannibal closely assessed the vehicle, realizing the accelerator was a thumb throttle. Pressing the button, the wheels began to spin. Wedging a branch against the button, Hannibal engaged the throttle causing the wheels to spin wildly.

The man mere inches from the unchecked wheels, Hannibal leaned close, informing, "Since this bike has given you so much pleasure, I assume you would prefer it to guide you along your way. Please, forgive me this indulgence. I've no doubt your death will provide me with much more pleasure than it will provide you. In any event, it has been a pleasure. Goodbye."

Hannibal moved behind the man, pressing his foot on the center of his back, forcing his already battered face toward the spinning wheels. The treads tore into the man's face, obliterating bone, flesh and muscle. As the hunks of organic material were being viciously torn from his skull, the man's body shuddered violently against the pressure being so sadistically applied by Hannibal's leg. Though the man was clearly unresponsive, Hannibal applied pressure a bit longer, perhaps, than was necessary to assure death. After removing his foot, he placed the helmets back on the men's heads and spent the next hour cleaning and securing the scene, clearing the area of any and all evidence of his presence.

Just as he was about to leave, Hannibal sensed that he was not alone in the area. Already mounted and prepared to move, he backed the horse behind a stand of trees. Seeing another rider attempting to join the fun, Hannibal considered his options. He could allow this person to discover the bodies, then Hannibal would be quietly on his way, or he could attempt to stop this person.

_In for a penny, in for a pound…_

Deciding to eliminate one more potential threat, Hannibal readied his attack by reaching back, and unhooking the lariat from the saddle. Climbing down from the horse, Hannibal remained very low to the ground, keeping to the edge of the track in order to remain unseen.

The person hopped off the bike, lifting the shield of their helmet to get a better view.

Hannibal peered over the large felled tree, noticing the person was not a man, but was Cervelli's daughter. He now had a choice to make. Move and be seen, at which point he would be forced to kill the girl, or remain still and hope he would have time to escape. He rested within the boughs of the felled tree, sitting deadly still against the trunk, the dead men and the now distraught girl only feet away.

His mind on the daughter of his own he hoped Clarice was carrying, he, too, remembered the cemetery in Buenos Aires, La Recoleta, and the tomb of the young woman commissioned by her distraught father. Though he found Cervelli's daughter to be offensive and vile, he was certain Cervelli would not want her dead.

For the sake of a man he barely knew, against his better judgment, Hannibal waited.

He would not have to wait very long to find that his better judgment was indeed, correct. This choice would set into motion a series of events that would ultimately endanger his family.

Soon, Hannibal Lecter would have far more precarious decisions to make. The very existence of his family would be in his hands, once more. Life or death, his loved one's lives would hang in the balance, with Hannibal the fulcrum, too soon deciding their fate.

_**Until the next chapter my friends!**_

_**LH**_


	32. Chapter 32

**HANNIBAL PARDONS**

Though this course of action would be fraught with unpredictability, Hannibal Lecter had made his choice. Unless he slaughtered Magdalena Cervelli as well, he would be seen and there was no way around that fact. So, Hannibal stood very slowly, his bent body straightening from the waist like a serpent rising from the bush. Standing, back straight and shoulders wide, his head last to lift, he remained deadly still before her, his bearing majestic, his stance noble. He was calm and quite sedate surrounded by the carcasses of his victims.

"I sense from the stench of fear emanating from your pores and the terror in your eyes that my reputation clearly precedes me," Hannibal detailed, head lowered, looking up from a decidedly menacing stare.

Magdalena trembled as she spoke, voice wavering with dread, "You're Hannibal the Canni…" her voice cracked as self-preservation stopped the title mid-word.

A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he completed the thought, "Cannibal? No…not, I think, today."

Overcome with dread, the girl dropped her helmet and began backing up, even as Hannibal stalked aggressively forward. Picking up a limb with his left hand, Hannibal dragged the bough along the ground, effectively wiping away his footsteps as he closed the distance between them.

Fear clutching her chest as she stepped backward without looking, the young girl stumbled over the upended tree's limbs, falling hard to the ground. Flat on her back, she began frantically waving one hand protectively in front of her face in an attempt to keep the good doctor at bay.

Amused by the panic but knowing he would need to expedite the process in order to leave the area, Hannibal stepped back, bowed, and with a flourish of his right hand, gestured for the young lady to stand.

"I'll not move toward you. You may rise without fear."

The girl, obviously accustomed to unscrupulous individuals, raised a suspicious eyebrow. She remained on the ground, able, but unwilling to move.

Hannibal was irritated by the response. She knew his name, but, if she refused to trust him at his word, knew little else of him.

Wanting to eliminate evidence, Hannibal stepped onto a large stone and turned his body, twisting at the waist as he scanned the ground, meticulously surveying the area. A careful man, there was no way Hannibal would not allow this young lady to distract him the task at hand. He needed to be fully certain his return to the area created no additional evidence of his presence at the scene.

Speaking as he searched, Hannibal explained, "My dear Magdalena, I never lie. If I tell you that I will not approach, you should take me at my word. Anything less would be rude and I hate rude people."

Her eyes never left him as she scrambled to her feet, pleading, "Doctor…Doctor Lecter, please, I don't want to die."

Lifting his eyes to meet hers, Hannibal informed, "Nor do I, therefore we have a decision to make, do we not?"

Trembling, Magdalena assured, "I'll do anything…just…don't hurt me."

Hannibal grasped his chin, stroking his bottom lip with his thumb as he questioned salaciously, "Hmm…_anything?_ I wonder how far you intend to take that comment. What, precisely, does _anything_ entail?"

The young lady looked down, took a deep breath and lifted her eyes once more, focusing on Hannibal with a seductive, if not forced, gaze. Her voice dripping with forced sensuality, she enticed, "Anything means just that-anything…_everything_. It's up to you to decide. Whatever you ask me to do, I swear on my life, I'll do it. Just promise you'll let me go."

Clasping his hands behind his back, Hannibal stepped onto another stone, now closer to the area where the horse was tied. His balance impeccable, he intentionally teetered on one leg, amusing himself as he offered, "Yes, Magdalena, I do believe that you would, though I have no want of your…services and it is precisely on your life that you are swearing. Your name is ironic, is it not?"

"Ironic? What do you mean?"

"Magdalena, as in Mary Magdalene- the purposed prostitute, though there is little evidence of that. As we share a religion, I am certain that offering your body was not part of your catechism into the Catholic faith, nor am I convinced that your parents would approve of that conduct."

Shaking her head, the young lady lowered her eyes, clearly humiliated as she whispered, "No…no they wouldn't."

Stopping on the large rock, he reached for the rein of the horse, now within reach. The animal dropped his head over Hannibal's shoulder, nuzzling close.

Stroking his large hand continually over the horse's nose, he continued to probe, "Then why, if I may be so bold as to ask, are you making the offer? It is obvious to me by the lack of any…arousal on your part, or my own for that matter, that you do not wish sexual contact, yet you offer it freely."

The young girl crossed her arms over her chest, her body language reflecting shame now, more than fear as she mumbled, "No, but I have nothing else to offer…nothing else of any worth."

Hannibal spoke quietly as he checked the gear, securing the ropes and making certain he was packing out everything he had brought to the scene.

"That is quite untrue, but we shall leave that for now. This offer? You have presented it before? To Chavez, I think?"

Her face flushed with disgrace, she responded quietly, "Yes." She did not elaborate.

Adjusting the cinch strap on the saddle, Hannibal confirmed, "Then you are not with him out of love or loyalty?"

Her eyes now downcast, she murmured, "No…he threatened to hurt my brother if I didn't…" Her voice trailed off, the shame overwhelming.

"I see. You are with a man of which you have no want or need in order to protect your brother?"

"Yes, and my father. If he thought I was being forced to…he'd try to kill Chavez. I don't want my brother or my father dead any more than I want to be killed…not by Chavez or by you. That's why I offered."

"And he, of course accepted?"

Bending to pick up her helmet, the girl responded, "Of course he did. I thought you would, too."

"It is because he is no more than an animal that he accepted such an offer. I have a wife, Clarice. She and I are very much in love. I would never betray her love or the spousal faith with which I have been entrusted. I have no need to bed down with a stranger to exercise some animalistic instinct. Your offer of sexual favors aside, if I wanted you dead, you and I would not be having this conversation."

Magdalena's voice flooded with confusion as she clarified, "If you don't want me dead, and you don't want me to…what do you want?"

"My only want is to secure my family's safety. That is paramount. In order to secure that, I need your current lover dead. You asked me what I want…that is all I shall ever want."

The moment Hannibal spoke the word 'dead', as if seeking some level of protection, she walked around her ATV, keeping the vehicle between them, asking, "What does that have to do with me?"

Hannibal found the behavior amusing, but made no mention of it. Now able to reach the animal, he wound the excess rope in a tight coil and tucked it into the saddlebag. He wanted to be perfectly clear about his plan and understood he would need her full attention. It would be best if she felt protected in some way. As he prepared to leave the area, he calmly outlined his plan.

"In order to protect my family, I must continue to remain above suspicion, therefore these deaths, as was the case in the deaths of Chavez's associates, must continue to appear accidental. To that end, I have an offer to pose. If you accept, as long as you remain true to your word, I shall remain true to my word and you will remain alive. If you deviate from our agreement and as such, place my family at risk, know that I will come for you and you will die at my hands. Not my preference, really, but you must know that I will do anything to secure the safety of my family. If that means your death, so be it. The choice is yours."

Clearly horrified she challenged, "_You _killed the others? But they died accidentally."

After securing the riggings and accounting for all of the equipment, Hannibal turned toward the young woman and smiled wickedly.

"Yes, the others died accidentally in much the same way as the gentlemen here died accidentally. To be quite honest, you should have shared their fate."

"Why didn't you just kill me?"

Hannibal hopped off the rock onto to the patch of grass where the horse waited patiently. Mounting the animal with ease, he paused, commenting with a flirtatious glint in his eye, "I have a soft spot in my heart for women."

Settling in his saddle, his eyes softened as his mind flashed to Mischa. Remembering a time when he shared a saddle with her, riding together around their estate atop his horse, the moment of remembrance added an air of melancholy as he allowed, "I am a father. I was once, a lifetime ago, a brother. I understand what your loss would mean to your family. If it is in my power, I would spare them that pain."

Sensing the import of the revelation, feeling a measure of compassion for the man she had been terrified of moments earlier, she stated with confidence, "Just tell me what I have to do."

Confident in his plan, Hannibal outlined, "You will leave this area and go directly to your home where you will wait twenty minutes before contacting the authorities to report the accident. You were not here when the deed occurred, so there is no need for fabrication. You came upon an unfortunate accident but there was nothing you could do to assist, as your friends were already dead. That is the truth and that is where the story ends. Agreed?"

"Yes, of course I agree."

"Very good. Now that we've made our pact, I shall be on my way. I must return this lovely animal to your father's home before returning to my own."

Hannibal turned the animal and began to move away. He stopped for a moment, reining the animal in. As an afterthought, he turned and faced the girl once more.

"There is one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Though you maintain you are protecting your family by your charade with Chavez, I am not fully convinced. I find discourtesy and disrespect to be unspeakable offensives, especially coming from a young lady who has been given every advantage. I will be discussing your comportment with your father on a regular basis. From this day forward, regardless of your arrangement with Chavez, you will be a model daughter and sister. You will treat your parents and brother with the love and care they deserve. If not, you will be considered by me to be a cancer on your family and as such I shall see no reason to spare your father your loss. Have I made myself clear?"

"Very clear, Sir."

"Then it is agreed. From this day forward you will mind both your manners and your tongue. Thus far during your young life, you have only seen fit to cultivate the external beauty with which you have been blessed. Let us see now, if your inner beauty can become equally radiant. For my part, I will move as quickly as is safe to extricate you from this situation. I bid you goodbye in the hope it will not be necessary for me to pay you a visit in future."

Hannibal gently tugged on the rein of the horse, directing the animal back to the Cervelli home. Within minutes, carefree, he guided the horse through the wooded area, galloping the animal across the pastures without a care. He was assured by the scent of the girl, practically dumbstruck with fear, that she would remain silent. If not, he thought a Columbian necktie might be an appropriate response. Either way, he would be pleased.

**Until the next chapter, my friends,**

**LH**


	33. Chapter 33

**BETTER JUDGMENT**

When Chavez discovered Magdalena was missing and potentially dallying with two of his dealers, he was enraged. He'd gone to their processing facility looking for her, only to find three ATV's missing and his woman no where to be found.

"She's with Rorion and Nene. They went up to ride the track and, when she found out you weren't going to be there, she followed."

Agitated by the insinuation, Chavez growled, "Why the hell would she go riding with them?"

Someone shouted out from the back of the room, careful to keep his voice non-descript, "Hey, Chavez! Maybe she's not riding with them. Maybe she's just stroking their tailpipes!"

As Chavez's men laughed aloud, another worker, disguising his voice as well, taunted, "Or maybe she ditched the quad and she's riding them!"

Laughing along with the others, the first man countered, "Knowing Magdalena she's riding them both!"

Pounding his fists on a worktable so forcefully the impact caused the tools to jump, Chavez roared, "I don't care who said that, you'd all better watch how you speak to me or I'll line you up and cut out your worthless tongues just to get to the bastard who said that!"

One of the men standing nearby obviously considered himself equal to Chavez and didn't care about being anonymous. He edged closer and spoke plainly "You should cut out that bitch's tongue, or maybe you don't mind being third in line, eh, Chavez?"

The first man again boomed from the back of the complex, now with blatant disregard, "Third guy in line? Knowing Magdalena, it's more like the twenty-third! Queue up, guys. When she gets back, let's see how many of us she'll suck off before this poor bastard gets his!"

Craning his neck to search the back of the room, Chavez shouted to person he now recognized, "Fuck you, Mario!"

Infuriated, Chavez lifted a screwdriver from the worktable, flipped it over to grip the metal section of the flathead, and threw it with all his strength at the man making the comment. The tool struck the planking directly next to the offender's head, hitting the wooden wall with a loud thud followed by a twanging sound as the tool vibrated wildly from the force with which it struck.

Continuing, Chavez roared, "When I get back here with that bitch, you can all line up and do whatever you want to that used up slut. When you've all had your f ill, you can watch me slit her dirty throat. I'll show every one of you worthless bastards. I wait in line behind no man!"

* * *

Feeling the need to defend his honor, Chavez raced to the Cervelli house in search of Magdalena. He hid his truck and rushed across the lawn, only to find the home empty and a horse tied securely to the rail of the front porch, though there was no evidence of a rider.

Within moments, Magdalena approached. She had been traveling very slowly, an obvious attempt not to run into Hannibal at the home, knowing he would return the horse before leaving the area.

Chavez grumbled when he noticed she was driving one of the missing ATV's. His workers were right. She _had_ been off following the men.

_You filthy animal...you deserve to die._

The moment she stopped the vehicle, Chavez gripped her forearm and yanked her from the quad.

Offended not only by her actions, but the disgrace her choices caused him, Chavez smacked the side of her helmet, jarring her body. Enraged, he cross-examined, "Where have you been, Alena? What the hell are you doing chasing off on a machine like this? I bought them to keep those idiots entertained, not you. Do you know how this makes me look? Do you know what the men are saying about you?"

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently before throwing her to the ground.

Fully accustomed to the man's violence, Magdalena responded in the manner to which she'd become accustomed. She picked herself up from the ground, brushed off her clothing and removed her helmet, setting it on the seat of the quad. Smoothing her hands over her hips she slinked up to Chavez. Magdalena draped her arms around his neck and pressed her body fully against his, grinding her hips provocatively against his pelvis.

Her lips brushed against his ear, her voice dripping with innuendo as she allured, "Are you excited to see me, Papi? Is that why you're so intense? Maybe you want it rough today? I'm ready to please you my strong, powerful man."

Aggressively, she sought his mouth but Chavez turned his head from hers, as if the touch of her lips against his might be toxic. Leaning back, he placed his right hand over her mouth and palmed her face, turning it from his own. With the full measure of his might he shoved hard causing her to stumble backward. Lowering his head with disgust, he responded, "As if I'd touch a filthy whore like you!"

Wanting to prove to his workers that he was a man who would not tolerate the tricks of this woman, Chavez grabbed her by the arm and began dragging her to his truck. Magdalena dug in her heels and yanked her arm away from his. She reached back and fearlessly slapped him on the center of his chest.

"Stop pulling me like that. You will be pleased with me! I have very important news for you."

Chavez turned, gripped her by her shoulder and barked in her face, "Why would I trust a woman who runs off to the woods after two of my men? What news do you have for me, aside from how much of a whore you are? You think you can shame me in front of everyone and get away with it? This was the last straw. It ends today. Today, Magdalena, you pay penance for your sins!"

Still believing her body might distract him, she reached for his belt and tugged him close, tempting, "Why would I want boys when I have a man like you. I wasn't going to fool around with them. I was watching them for you. You know you're the only man for me, my stallion. They could never please me the way you do, Papi. They're no threat to you. They're both-"

Before she could speak the word, 'dead', Chavez interrupted, "You were following them because you get wet and chase after every man you see, then you play like the innocent virgin hoping everyone will believe you. That might work with your senile father, but not me. If you want to put on a show for them privately, I'll make you put one on for them all now. When I strip you naked and whip the skin from your body, maybe that will make you wet as well. Will they want you then, when your body is cut to ribbons, dripping with blood?"

Magdalena opened her mouth to explain, but Chavez, tired of her lies and focused on his reputation, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed the orifice full. He then yanked the bandana from his neck and tied it around her head, driving the wadded fabric ball toward the back of her throat, choking her.

Reaching for the bandana, she tried to strip it from her face, but Chavez was far too quick. He yanked her jacket down, trapping her arms. He then yanked hard at the sleeves and tied them around her body, creating a strait jacket from her own clothing.

Struggling, she attempted to free herself but could not. Thrashing from panic and fear, she began kicking.

Chavez carried her wriggling body for a time but soon tired of her struggling, so, without thought or hesitation, Chavez punched Magdalena in the head just behind her left ear, instantly knocking her unconscious. He allowed her limp body to drape helplessly over his shoulder, bobbing along as he carried her to the truck. He tossed her with a thump onto the metal bed, closed the tailgate and drove off, her limp body bouncing without protection around the back of the pickup.

When Magdalena awoke, she was chained to the large metal ring welded to the wall in the barn.

* * *

Hannibal arrived home to find Clarice and Lady Murasaki in the family room. Devyni was playing on a large multi-colored rug with paths painted to look like small roadways. He was paying very careful attention to the truck he was currently revving across the floor. Suddenly, the boy lifted his head, placed the truck on the rug and looked toward the doorway. Clarice, confused by the baby's response, she, too, watched the doorway. The moment Hannibal appeared Clarice smiled, relieved.

"Hey, H. We didn't hear you come in. Well, I shouldn't say we, Dev heard you coming a mile off. Did you just get back?"

Hannibal removed his jacket in the event there was any blood he'd missed in the cleaning process. Draping it over his arm, he nodded.

"Yes, my Love. Just this minute."

Now very attuned to Hannibal's body language, though he appeared to Lady Murasaki to be fine, Clarice knew differently.

"Everything okay?"

Standing perfectly still, mindful of his movements, he advised, "For now, though I'm not certain. I made an emotional decision that went entirely against my better judgment that, if you have a moment, I'd like to discuss with you."

Clarice's eyes shifted from her husband to their son and back to Hannibal, her eyes questioning. Immediately understanding her concern, Hannibal took control of the situation.

"My dear aunt, would you mind looking after my son for a few minutes. There is a subject of some importance that I'd like to discuss with Clarice, if you are amenable."

Beaming at the trust implied, Lady Murasaki nodded, "Yes, by all means. I would love to look after young Hannibal. Please, please take your time. My nephew and I will be fine."

The instant Clarice stood, Devyni's eyes left the toy and focused on his mother's movement. His nostrils flared, assessing.

Clarice didn't notice the boy's reaction, but Hannibal immediately recognized the response, pride swelling at the boy's instantaneous use of to his senses to evaluate the situation.

When Clarice failed to turn, instead of moving toward her husband, Devyni shifted his attention to his father.

Linking his eyes with his son, Hannibal smiled, reassuring, "Mother will be back, little one. You are quite safe with your aunt."

Lady Murasaki quickly agreed, moving closer to the child to lend comfort.

"Yes. Not to worry young Hannibal. You're never in danger when your family is near." She turned to Hannibal and assured, "Not to worry. I'll take very good care."

More comfortable in her presence, Hannibal addressed his aunt, "Of that I have no doubt. Rest assured, we'll not be long. If you have need of us, merely activate the intercom on the wall."

Pleased that Hannibal had not corrected her when she'd used the word, 'family' in connection with her presence, Lady Murasaki tended to the baby, adding, "I'm sure we'll be fine, but it's nice to know you're both close."

Hannibal placed a protective hand on Clarice's back, guiding her from the room. All the while Devyni watched. As his parents moved toward the exit, Devyni leaned forward, his intention to stand and follow.

Raising a hand, Hannibal motioned for his son to stay, nodding his assurance to the boy as he left the room. "Play, my son. All is well."

Confident, Devyni sat back, but continued to watch as his parents left him in the company of his aunt. He wasn't afraid when he moved to follow. Instead, he seemed to be confirming his father's intention. The moment his mother and father moved to the next room, Devyni smiled widely and handed his treasured truck to his great-aunt, obviously inviting her to play.

* * *

Hannibal guided Clarice to his study, the pair sitting on the large couch sitting close enough that he might share the events of the day without being overheard.

Nervously, Clarice began, "Okay, what the hell is going on, H?"

Smoothing a palm across his forehead Hannibal flattened his hair, thinking as he spoke, "I've eliminated two additional threats, but my actions may have opened us up to a danger I was hoping to avoid."

Clarice scooted closer to Hannibal, her knee now touching his. Curious, she asked, "What danger, H?"

Instinctively, Hannibal reached out and patted her leg, comforting as he calmly spoke, "Detection."

Shifting her body, angled enough to see his face, Clarice offered equably, "I think you'd better tell me what's happening, H. I don't like the way that sounds."

Lowering his head attending to his hand on her knee, he stroked a thumb continually as he explained, "Nor do I, Clarice. Magdalena Cervelli came upon the scene."

Her heart pounded. Had he killed the girl? Was he capable of that? It's not as if she was really a threat. She was just a kid, for Christ's sake. Clarice attempted to remain calm, choosing more information before reacting. She breathed deeply, questioning, "Before or after you eliminated the threats?"

Hannibal immediately sensed her heightened anxiety and wondered if the response was fear of the events his decision set into motion, or frustration with his inaction.

"Just after I had secured the scene and cleared away the majority of evidence indicating my presence."

Watching her carefully, Hannibal's brilliant mind spun with thoughts. What is she thinking? What is she feeling? He waited for her response, anxious.

Clarice looked into his eyes, entreating, "Please tell me you didn't kill Cervelli's daughter."

Relieved she agreed with his decision but unsure it was the correct choice, he spoke softly, "No, Clarice, I did not…" He paused, at war with himself on this, "…but I _should_ have."

"Why? She's no threat to us, she's just a kid...wait, H? Did she see you?"

The thought that the girl may have discovered Hannibal in the middle of committing murder, Clarice's heart pounded. Her mind flashed to the moment he was taken into custody and she was forced to cover his face with the mask of the monster. She couldn't bear to think of him in prison again. Her H…he was no monster, but to this girl, seeing something without context would be terrifying to say the least. Clarice held her breath, waiting.

Feeling her fear, Hannibal immediately responded to her concerns, consoling, "Yes, though not during the acts themselves. She came upon the scene assuming it was accidental. I approached, unconcerned with detection as I intended to eliminate the threat. When I saw it was Magdalena, I had second thoughts. If avoidable, I would not take a sister from her brother, though I am not certain it will be unavoidable."

Understanding the emotion of the last sentence, Clarice could not fault her husband, though she worried, "Jesus…Jesus, H. Did you talk to her or did she see you when you attempted to leave?"

"She and I spoke at length, but I sensed deception. She attempted to convince me that she is with Chavez only as a means to protect her brother, not realizing I have seen her interact with the boy. She was more than cruel. I have seen her with Chavez as well. Her behavior is overtly sexual. She is not a victim of coercion, though that is what she wants others to think. She was also very…aggressive toward me."

The thought of anyone behaving in a threatening manner toward Hannibal, knowing who he was, seemed insane to Clarice. She shook her head, clearing her mind to process that concept.

"Aggressive? Aggressive how?"

"Sexually. She believed she might be able to entice me."

The thought was preposterous. What would Hannibal want with her? Why would she even think that was a possibility? Clarice's entire mindset was tumbling with conflicting thoughts and emotions. If this girl wanted Hannibal, maybe she needed to die. More information was needed.

Making no attempt to hide the possessiveness in her tone, she probed, "Entice you? Who the hell does that bitch think she is?"

"She is no one, Clarice." His heart warmed as Hannibal sensed his wife's jealousy, explaining, "She wished to trade her body for her life. I told her I was in love with my wife and had no interest in her proposal. That is why I believe she will not keep her word. She was far too quick to offer her body as of it was a frequent thing. She seemed quite confident that she could manipulate me and was taken aback that I didn't respond in a positive manner to her advances. She is not the person she presents herself to be. I am sure she is with Chavez willingly."

Recognizing the danger, Clarice's voice lowered, "You think this means trouble for us, H?"

Hannibal took a deep breath, looking around the room. This particular room was his sanctuary, though he couldn't be certain any part of this home would be safe if his fears were realized.

Removing all anxiety from his voice, speaking dispassionately to lessen his wife's worry, he outlined, "Potentially. I am not certain she will remain true to her word, though I imagine it is possible. Though if Chavez places any pressure on her I am certain she will give me up to him. She may have already, though I am uncertain. She was directed to call the police several minutes after I left the area to report the accident. I moved to the lookout point where I'd parked the car. It was well hidden along the only access road to Cervelli's ranch. I remained there for quite some time in order to clean the blood from my clothing. I worked there for almost an hour to remove the evidence before entering the car. Clarice…the police were never called to the scene."

Confused, Clarice proceeded, "What does that mean?"

"It means that she didn't follow even the first direction given her by me. That means the bodies have not been reported. It means she may have gone to Chavez with the information."

"Should I call Ardelia? Do you want me to get Pearsall involved?"

"If Chavez moves on me, there is nothing Pearsall can do to stop him. Clarice, I may ask that you return to our home in Baltimore. I need to assure your safety."

"No, H. It will be Christmas in a couple of weeks and the baby's first birthday is coming up. We've been apart too much and I want us to be together for all of that. If Chavez makes a move, we need to be ready for him. Until then, you do what you can to make us safe. Okay?"

Hannibal sat very still, processing the situation. He didn't answer Clarice because he hadn't come to a determination as to the most effective and safe course of action. Clarice reached for his hands, holding them in hers.

"Look at me, H."

Hannibal looked up, searching her eyes for any fear. He saw none.

"Yes, my Love?"

Clarice, eyes locked on Hannibal's, imposed her will, asserting, "H…promise me. We stay together in this."

She squeezed his hands, reinforcing her resolve. Hannibal's heart pounded. She was brave, his Clarice. He understood now, though he knew it all along, that she would fight by his side to protect their family. No matter what the cost.

Tugging her hands, he pulled her close, tracing his nose alongside hers. Briefly touching his forehead to his wife's, he closed his eyes, turned his face and kissed her gently. He opened the door to his memory palace marked, My Love, and entered that memory there. This sense of family, of closeness, had evaded him for so many years that he had almost forgotten the feeling of it. Now that this intensely personal affection was returned to him, he would not give it up. He would not allow it to be threatened.

"H? You haven't promised. Say it, H. We stay together."

His heart soared with pride at the warrior before him.

Squeezing her hands in return, Hannibal pressed his cheek against the side of Clarice's face and whispered in her ear, his voice lush with love, "Yes, my Love, I promise. Together. Forever."

_No matter what the cost._

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	34. Chapter 34

**DECISIONS**

Magdalena shifted against the chains, her body bloody and sore, though she had no conscious memory of what she'd just been through. Looking up, she could see many of Chavez's men milling around, laughing. Looking down, other than a blanket tossed haphazardly across her lap, she was naked. It was obvious by her current state that she'd had some kind of sexual contact. She hoped it was Chavez, but seeing the reactions of the men, that really wasn't likely. No matter. She didn't remember any of it and if she was going to be honest, to get back at Chavez, she'd screwed every one of them at least once.

_Who cares anyway? I'm on birth control and none of them have any diseases a shot won't clear up. Hell, it's not like I remember it. He thinks he can scare me? Fuck Chavez._

Twisting the chains, Alena tested the security. Locked tight. There was no way she'd be able to free herself.

_Act like it's no big deal and maybe he'll fall for it._

"Papi, unchain me. This isn't funny, they'll see me."

Chavez paced like an angry bull, scuffing at the ground, snorting out, "They've done more than see you, Alena and from what they say it wasn't the first time for most of them. Now that they've lost interest in your worn out ass, I'm gonna kill you."

_That motherfucker let them touch me...how do I get out of this? I'll keep up the act…it might still work if he thinks I forgive him. If that doesn't work, I'll use Lecter as a pawn. It's the perfect plan._

"You were angry, Papi. I understand but if all is forgiven why would you kill me? I told you I was following your men for you. Did you find them?"

Hanging his arms over the stall, slapping the roughly hewn wood, he snarled, "No, they didn't get back but when they do, I'll slit their worthless throats as well."

Shifting toward Chavez, Alena did her best to appear alluring. Not an easy task with the scent of so many men covering her body. She arched upward to share the information she hoped would change his mind.

Speaking just above a whisper, she confided, "You don't get it Papi, they're dead. Their bodies are up at that sharp curve in the track just before the stand of pines. They were both killed this afternoon."

Unfazed by the comment, he returned, "What did they do wrap themselves around a tree?"

"No, that's what it's going to look like but that's not what happened. Unchain me and I'll show you where they are. It looks like an accident but they were murdered just like all the others."

The moment the spark of fear ignited, Alena saw the change in Chavez's eyes. She had his attention. Fully.

_You think you're afraid now, just wait until you find out what I know. _

Chavez pulled his arms back over the edge of the stall, walked to the opening and yanked at the chain. Agitated, he commanded, "What are you talking about you lying wench? Tell me now!"

_That's right you worthless bastard. You know exactly who I'm talking about, don't you. It's what you've been afraid of all along. I own you now._

Alena turned over, intentionally shunning Chavez. Now realizing she had the upper hand, her voice took on a forceful tone, "I'm not saying another word until you unchain me. Get rid of these animals, get my clothing, and let me clean myself and maybe I'll help you save your life."

Grumbling as if ignoring the problem would make it go away, Chavez vented, "What are you complaining about, I thought you liked the stink of men on you? Sit in your filth like the pig you are. When I grow tired of your squealing, you'll die."

The scent of animals and men swirling around her, Alena thought she might vomit if she wasn't allowed to leave. Anger her only alternative, "No, without my help, you will die. And why would I save your ignorant ass when you're threatening to kill me and you treat me with such disrespect? If you don't unchain me now, I swear on San La Muerta I'll help the man kill you myself."

Though his heart was pounding at the thought that his men might have been killed, Chavez kept a fearless front, "You talk brave for a sow chained to a stall."

"And you're brave for a man who's had half his best men killed and doesn't even realize what the hell is happening. Are you blind or just an idiot? Unchain me or I will let San La Muerta do what he does best. Kill stupid men."

_In an effort to frighten me, the sow's father mentioned Hannibal Lecter. If his claim was not a lie the bitch may know the cannibal as well. If there's truth to this perhaps she can lead me to the man. Better to kill him before he poses a threat to me._

His decision made, Chavez stalked out of the stall and began barking orders to some of his henchmen.

"Raphael, Omar, take a truck up to the track and see if this whore is telling the truth or just lying to save her life."

He turned back to Magdalena, pointing a finger, warning, "They'd better be dead or you will be."

Frustrated at having to wait and angered by her physical state Magdalena's rage was magnified by the leers of the men still circling the stall, Magdalena began tugging at her bonds, thrashing and rattling the chains as she kicked and screamed, "If you don't watch the way you speak to me,_ you_ will be."

Chavez forced his eyebrows together. With a snarl, he warned, "You are pushing me too far."

Magdalena yanked at the chain, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Unchain me or you'll be dead before sunrise."

"We wait until Raphael and Omar return…then we will see who'll be dead before sunrise."

* * *

Clarice could see the strain in her husband's face. He was tense and though it was not in his nature to consent to this rare frailty, with Clarice, he allowed the occasional weakness. Though it was difficult at first, Hannibal had grown accustomed to sharing his thoughts and feelings with his wife. She was now his sounding board, as she above all others understood his plight.

"In regards to the Cervelli girl, was my decision sound, Clarice, in your estimation?"

Lifting her eyes in surprise, she concurred, "I would have done the same thing, if that's what you're asking."

Nodding, Hannibal granted, "Yes, thank you. It is precisely what I was asking."

Clarice sat for a moment without speaking. She wondered what her husband was thinking. He often asked her for guidance, but never for something this important. Life or death decisions were never up for debate or discussion. If there was a need, Hannibal acted accordingly. Clarice wasn't certain she was comfortable with this circumstance.

"It's not like you to doubt yourself, H. What's going on?"

"It isn't that I doubt my decision. I had two choices, neither perfect. I chose. If given identical circumstances I would have made exactly the same choice."

Clarice decided to draw attention to the obvious, "So if you'd make the same choice all over again, why's it bugging you?"

Smiling at the colloquialism, Hannibal pondered, "_Bugging_ me? Hmmm, yes. I suppose it is. Frankly, I haven't a clue. To be honest, that it's on my mind at all is perplexing me entirely. Perhaps my unease indicates that I should have killed her. She is, after all, an indirect threat."

Seeking to find a way to comfort and reassure, though she knew Hannibal didn't require conventional emotional support, Clarice searched for something to connect her husband to this circumstance. She probed, "Come on, you've let people live before. Haven't you?"

Contemplating that question brought to mind countless times when Hannibal had toyed with his prey. A smile slowly evolved. Clarice could only guess what was going through her husband's mind as he spoke with a malevolent grin, "Yes, though I must admit, not for very long."

Climbing into her husband's lap, she shoved his shoulder, prodding playfully, "Okay, so what were the circumstances?"

"I would let someone live…if I wished to…" Hannibal stopped short of finishing. He thought better of his answer, believing it might be something Clarice would have difficulty understanding.

Not letting him off the hook, Clarice rested her head on his chest. Snuggling against his body, she urged, "Why'd you stop? Don't you trust me?"

Hannibal wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close, whispering, "I trust you with all I am, Clarice."

Smiling at the rumble of his voice within the barrel of his chest, Clarice listened to the strong thump of his heart, now tickling her cheek. It was rare that he wanted her counsel. She would see the conversation through. Rubbing Hannibal's thigh to encourage expression, she pressed, "Finish the thought, H. You'd keep them alive if you wanted to what?"

Pausing, Hannibal considered why he hesitated to share this with Clarice. They'd discussed his crimes on numerous occasions, but this was different. This was approaching the why of it all. This was approaching the psychology of the process. It wasn't as if he felt any sense of guilt or remorse in connection to any of the acts. Neither did he fear his wife's judgment. He simply didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable.

_She wants to know me…all of me. There is nothing to fear for me or from me._

"I might keep them alive in order to…extend the pleasure…to play a bit, as it were. If I thought the person didn't necessarily warrant a quick death I might…torment them, psychologically."

"_And_ physically?"

"Yes."

"Frequently?"

"Perhaps more so than was necessary. Does that alter your view of me?"

"Nothing will ever change my view of you. I know your true nature. You don't kill without cause or reason. I know there are times and maybe it's every time, that you enjoyed it, but, H… I'm okay with that. And don't forget, I was there with you and Paul Krendler…I've seen you play with your food."

"Yes, you have at that."

Hannibal smoothed his hands over his wife. She was perfection, his Clarice. All he could ever hope for. He would kill a thousand women to keep her from harm. Why not Magdalena? Sparing the girl was not something he would have contemplated a year ago. Not that he was softening, but fatherhood provided a perspective not previously experienced. He knew Cervelli personally and whether or not he believed Magdalena deserved to live or die, he wanted to spare the man the loss of his child.

"Clarice?"

"H?"

"Perhaps we should get back to our son?"

"Yeah, sure. Guess what?"

"What?"

"I love you still."

"And I shall love you always, Clarice. Even as I draw my last breath."

* * *

The truck pulled in front of the barn with such speed that Chavez rushed out to meet the pair. Raphael stepped out of the truck, obviously shaken.

"What happened? Did you find those bastards?"

"Yes…they're dead. Chavez…they're all fucked up. Smashed to pieces."

"Were they murdered?"

"I can't see how. They smashed the quads into a pine tree that had fallen. Looks like they came around the corner without checking and couldn't stop. They're a goddamned mess."

"Did you see any tracks, maybe from a truck or another off road vehicle?"

"No. Just our truck and the quads."

"We can't call the cops so go get a couple of men with some shovels, dig a hole somewhere in the pine stand and bury the idiots."

With fire in his eyes, Chavez stalked toward the stall to Magdalena.

_That bitch has lied to me for the last time!_

Chavez entered the stall, dropped to his knees and grasped a fistful of Magdalena's hair. Tugging hard he torqued her neck, exposing her throat. Reaching for the knife on his belt, he flicked open the blade and poised it, preparing to thrust.

"Go with god, Magdalena."

Desperate to save her own life, Magdalena played her very last card. On the top of her lungs she began screaming, "Wait! It was Hannibal Lecter. He's San La Muerta. He killed your men today and the others, too."

"You're lying to save your worthless ass!"

Her mind searching for any way to back up her claim, inspiration struck as she clamored, "I can prove it. You met me at the house- you had to have seen the horse. He rode in on my father's horse and when he left he tied it to the rail of the house. You must have seen the horse. You must have seen the horse!"

Chavez lowered the knife.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's note:**

**Happy New Year, my dear friends! **

**Allow me a moment to thank each of you for your continued friendship. I have received so many personal messages of support since the passing of my husband last month that I wanted to take a moment to tell you how very much it has meant to me. You have all been so incredibly patient and kind. The support of my fan fic family truly does mean the world to me. **

**Please indulge me as I dedicate the last chapter of the year 2012 to my dear husband. His constant encouragement has always been my inspiration. Thank you, my Love. You left me far too soon. **

**OVERCOMING FEAR**

Lady Murasaki moved quietly through the home, often in the general area of Clarice and the baby, but never in an intrusive way. Hannibal skirted the exterior of the kitchen assembling the final ingredients to bake bread from the dough he'd earlier prepared. With a lush stew bubbling along on the stovetop, the soothing scent filled the space. Rich cubes of Argentinian beef combined with a variety of herbs, tomatoes and root vegetables would pair nicely with a rustic loaf of crusty bread. Rolling up his sleeves, he quickly tied an apron around his waist to protect his clothing and with a flick of his wrist, dusted a fistful of flour across the marble surface.

As his strong hands and thick wrists began to roll and knead the dough, Hannibal watched.

Lady Murasaki was aware of the eyes that followed her as she moved around the family room, picking up baby toys and assisting Clarice. Seeming to have found a perfect balance in their interaction, a familial affection was building between the pair. One that Hannibal had hoped for. The baby, now not only comfortable with his great-aunt but openly affectionate, toddled behind her pushing a toy train designed to assist babies in their attempts to begin walking.

The women often assisted one another with the small jobs that popped up around the home and seemed to have evenly divided the household chores without any active input from Hannibal. He was exclusively responsible for their meals, that, thankfully, had not changed, but the women had taken full control of the rest of the home. Not accustomed to relinquishing so much influence over his household, the suspicious husband balked initially, but Clarice held her ground and Hannibal, dutiful as ever, yielded.

Now, Hannibal was fully enthralled, watching his wife crawl around on the lush Persian rug, following Devyni as he chased the push-train behind his great-aunt, laughing wildly as she fussed and pranced, enjoying every minute of the faux-hunt.

Hearing her husband begin to hum quietly in the kitchen, Clarice smiled.

_He's happy. I love it when he's happy. _

Realizing the humming began the moment she took to the carpet and that she was effectively presenting her posterior in the direction of her husband, Clarice shot a look under her arm to covertly assess his actions. As always, Hannibal did not disappoint. His eyes were firmly locked on her backside, watching her every movement with what appeared to be absolute adulation.

"Hey, H?"

"Yes, my Love?"

"Enjoying the view?"

"Immensely."

"I love you too, H."

Hannibal winked and continued to hum, making no secret of his absolute fascination with and utter adoration of his wife.

Unspeaking, as it wasn't her place to comment, Lady Murasaki smiled. There was comfort here. Hannibal's home with Clarice was a true Lecter household in every sense and the memories of her own life as a young bride flooded back to her. Before she and Robert took permanent residence in Paris, for a very short time, they too lived at Lecter Castle.

Hannibal's parents had been dedicated to one another and to their children. The children, intensely intelligent and curious, were being raised with a strong core of firmly held beliefs and deeply rooted Catholic traditions. It was wonderful, then and now, to be a part of an old-fashioned family. The Lecter men were fiercely protective of their family, immediate and extended. Now that she lived in Hannibal's home, now that he had officially claimed her as his aunt, she would be safe and loved. The Lecter men, of noble birth, were the keepers of tradition and the backbone of their families, but the women were their strength and the hearts that beat within them. It was glorious and Lady Murasaki's warmed at the thought of it.

Clarice crawled along on all fours, scooting happily behind her son and as she closed the distance, she noticed the boy was vocalizing. Waving her hand to get Hannibal's attention she caught his eye and signaled for him to listen. Wanting to fully attend to his son, Hannibal stopped humming. This action caused the baby to stop humming, interrupting his pushing of the train and turn toward his father. The boy's eyes widened with expectation, waiting.

Confused, Hannibal's eyebrow lifted as he looked to his wife for guidance.

"I think he was trying to hum with you, H, so go on. Hum!"

Placing the finished dough on the counter to proof, Hannibal washed his hands quickly and returned to humming as he cleaned off his workspace and removed his apron. The very moment Hannibal began to hum, the baby, once more, began mimicking. It wasn't quite a hum, more of a bum, bum, bum, type of sound, but it was obvious he was trying to copy his father.

Touched by the action, Hannibal left the kitchen and immediately moved to his son, humming as he approached. The baby watched his father carefully, his eyes never leaving the man he obviously treasured.

Clarice's heart warmed at the naked emotion flowing between father and son. Hannibal was focused only on his child. Nothing existed outside of this space, this time, the interaction with his treasured boy. The baby seemed equally moved by the experience, engrossed in the thought that something he was doing had fully garnered his father's attention. Devyni's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he stepped slightly away from the train with only his right hand resting casually on the top of the toy for support.

As Hannibal approached, for a moment, a split second, the baby released the train and stood, wobbly-legged like a newborn foal, his little arms flapping and wavering to steady him. Clarice's reaction was to reach for her son, but a low growl and disapproving glance from her husband told her something was about to happen. Trusting that Hannibal had a handle on the situation, she sat back down and reached into the front pocket of her jeans for her cell phone, seeking to document what she believed would be the baby humming with his dad.

Hannibal recognized this fledgling attempt and, bending to a knee, moved close enough to reach his son, though he made no overt attempt to do so.

Instead, pride filling his voice, the waver in his lush baritone evident, he beckoned, "Yes little man, come. You are safe. Walk to daddy. I shall be here to catch you. I promise, my son...you'll not fall."

Devyni rocked slightly, attempting to coordinate the movement of his legs as he called to his father, "Da-Da…Da-Da."

Arms outstretched, Hannibal encouraged, "Devyni, Daddy is here. Come. Be bold, my son."

Seeing his father's outstretched arms, Devyni awkwardly lifted his foot and slapped it forward. The next two steps happened in very quick succession as the baby struggled to keep up with the forward motion of his own toddling. By the third unassisted step, he had found his father's arms.

Lady Murasaki began clapping along with Clarice, the women cheering as Hannibal lifted his victorious son in his arms and held the boy close to his body, kissing his cheeks.

"That was exceptional, Hannibal. Only eight months old, you are a very young to be taking your first steps. You are such a brave boy to let go and walk to Daddy. Soon, no more holding on at all. You will be off running and nothing will hold you back."

The baby pressed his face against his father's neck, obviously thrilled with this new development. The specific Da-Da, intensified with the baby's exhilaration, had now evolved to a highly repetitive, dadadadadadadadadadadada, the vocalizations sounding somewhat like a baby interpretation of a motorboat engine.

His eyes sparking with pride, Hannibal clutched his progeny to his chest, assuring, "Yes, my boy, Daddy has you…Daddy will always have you."

* * *

As the blade moved away from her throat, Magdalena trembled but showed no outward sign of fear.

_Okay…now what? Will offering Hannibal up to Chavez be enough to save me?_

Magdalena was desperate, but she wasn't completely foolish. She would present only enough information to get her out of this situation, knowing she'd be forced to backtrack. As frightened as she was at this precise moment, as fearful of Chavez, being in the presence of Hannibal Lecter was truly terrifying. That man's was silence far more frightening than Chavez's rage could ever be.

Unconvinced and still highly agitated, Chavez paced in front of the stall's opening punching the heel of his clenched fist along the wall. His movements were not only meant to threaten, but had dual intent. He was angry. He wanted to kill her, but still, he was intentionally blocking the view of the men standing around the stall watching for his next move. To save face he should kill her, but that would be foolish. If she had information, it would be far more intelligent to hear her out.

Not wanting to appear as if his stance toward this woman was softening, the cartel leader growled and snarled, furiously stalking the stall.

Magdalena took as deep a breath as her battered body could manage. Her ribs ached as she reached toward the man, pointing furiously as she explained, "You know I'm right, don't you? He isn't you, Chavez. This man isn't trying to shock you into submission or intimidate you. He's no fool. If he wanted to better his odds before making his final move on you, he wouldn't alert you to his actions by slitting their throats and dropping them in your lap."

Chavez scuffed at the ground, snorting like a cornered bull as Magdalena continued to challenge, "No matter how many heads you take or how many lives you have ended, you know he's your better in this. If he wants you dead, and he does, just like all the others…you'll die. You can only win if you can kill him first and I'm the only one who can get you close enough to him. But go ahead and kill me. At least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that, with Hannibal Lecter hunting you, you'll soon follow."

Chavez stood, turned and in a fit of anger fueled by his feelings of helplessness, he drove the knife into the roughly hewn wooden slat framing the wall.

_That's right you pig, choke on your fear. I'll smile as the cannibal feasts on your face._

Magdalena forced something of a crooked smile, though it would have looked more fitting on a jack o' lantern than a woman, jeering, "I'll tell you everything. I'll bring him to you, if you like."

Lowering his head, Chavez gripped the post of the stall, leaning heavily forward, pulling at the support, far too stressed to remain still. Pausing, he took a moment before snarling, "Yes, you're good at that aren't you? Leading men around by their lust."

Magdalena reached for his leg and curled her body around it like a snake, tempting, "Yes. Exceptionally. And as exceptional a man as Hannibal Lecter is, he is no different."

Skeptical, Chavez tugged his leg from her coiled embrace, scoffing, "If what you say is true and he allowed you to live, it is because he believes it will benefit him in the future, not because he wants to have sex with you."

"He wants me. Every man wants me."

"Really? Hannibal Lecter wants you, but here you are, fucked by every man within a ten-kilometer radius with the exception of your impotent father, your fucked up brother and him? It's a very warm day. If he wanted you, the pine stand is secluded. He would have taken you then and there."

Stroking her fingertips across Chavez's right boot, Magdalena flirtatiously traced tiny patterns as she invented, "I told him I would be ready when he was, and trust me when I say, he is more than aware of what I am willing to do for him."

_You think you're god? I'll watch him drive nails through your feet...He'll crucify you, you son of a bitch._

Disgusted by her touch, minimal though it was, Chavez stepped away and dragging his foot along the floor, he scuffed up the dirt, launching it in her face as he taunted, "And yet you remain untouched by him? If he finds you so irresistible, why is that?"

Magdalena quickly brought her manacled hands to her face, wiping the dust from her lips, now curling angrily across her teeth. She was enraged, a result of the embarrassment of being naked in front of these men combined with the aftermath of an attack that, thankfully, she couldn't remember.

She spat on the ground at his feet and growled, "You think he doesn't want me but he does. He just isn't an animal to fuck out of doors like the beasts in this barn."

Turning to face her, the drug kingpin gripped the chains that threaded through the large welded hoop. Tugging hard at the restraints, the force yanked her body backward causing her hands to slap against the rough timbers of the stall. Once he was certain he had her attention, he asserted with as much cruelty as he could muster, "Every single man, Hannibal Lecter included, will fuck his woman any goddamned place he can if the mood strikes him and she's willing. You can trust me when I say that I've seen his woman. She loves her husband and is more than willing. She's the reason you returned, untouched."

"Just because he loves his wife, doesn't mean he wasn't tempted and isn't willing. He killed your men, you ignorant bastard. Every single one of them. He would have killed me too, but I offered myself to him and he let me go. Accept the truth of it or not the choice is yours, but there it is."

And it was the truth, technically. A sin of omission, perhaps, but here, it was a damned convenient one, a necessity in fact.

Doubt began to creep into Chavez's mind, burrowing in his brain like a mole as he considered, "But if this is the agent of San La Muerta as you claim, he is no ordinary man, is he?"

Seeing a flicker of uncertainty in the eyes of her former lover, gleefully, Magdalena persisted, "Maybe not an ordinary man, but a man just the same."

As deceit spilled from her lips, she thought of Hannibal. Of how she threw herself at him and how aloof his demeanor remained. She offered what men fought for, what every man, she believed, desired. She offered him her body. Anything…everything, and he turned her down. But that answer wouldn't suit her here. She couldn't tell someone like Chavez, or the men still milling around the stall that Hannibal Lecter, for whatever reason, showed mercy. That he was even capable of compassion would have signaled weakness to Chavez. She didn't dare say that she'd thrown herself at him and been turned down. No. It wouldn't be prudent to share that information. A man like Chavez couldn't understand a man like Hannibal Lecter, if he truly was a man at all. Not certain she understood him either, she, too, almost doubted that fact.

_He's right. Hannibal Lecter is no ordinary man. He's a man in love with his wife. That man cannot be tempted. He cannot be swayed, and if he believes his family is being threatened…he cannot be stopped._

Instead of speaking the truth, again, because it suited her, once again, Magdalena lied, and, to his everlasting regret, Chavez believed her. He reached into his pocket and tossed the keys to the shackles at her feet.

"Unlock yourself. I'll never touch you again."

"You don't want me? That's fine. Hannibal does."

"Really? Would you face him again? Naked and defenseless as you are now, with no weapon in your hand?"

"I'll face him as I am. He is a man and just like any man, when I touch him, his flesh will 's all the weapon I'll ever need."

_**Until the next chapter, my friends, **_

_**LH**_


	36. Chapter 36

**HANNIBAL'S LULLABY**

Clarice was sound asleep by the time Hannibal showered and returned to their bedroom. He placed his right knee on the mattress, slowly allowing his weight to settle before crawling across their bed toward his wife, careful not to displace the surface thus waking Clarice. Close now, the thoughtful husband very tentatively lowered his shoulder to the goose-down, allowing his full weight to settle into the mattress. When he was certain his wife was not disturbed by his presence, he gathered Clarice and his son within his arms and pulled them close.

Without waking, Clarice snuggled against Hannibal, the baby cradled in her arms, soundly asleep. Within minutes Hannibal, too, was asleep, his arms encircling his wife, now nestled comfortably within his loving embrace. This devoted clan often shared a family bed, the baby as contented to sleep with his parents as he was without. Not seeking his mother out of his own need, Devyni could often be found in Clarice's arms if his desire to nurse overruled her ability to stay awake.

Though he was a growing boy, Devyni occasionally sought his mother's breast in the middle of the night not out of hunger so much as the need to mollify. This child was lovingly intuitive and if it seemed Clarice was particularly upset or even a bit lonely, the boy's needs appeared to become more acute. Hannibal noted the correlation, but made no effort to draw Clarice's attention to the occurrence. The boy sensed his mother's need for comfort and sought, in his own way, to soothe. Hannibal believed this was something that should be encouraged but understood that if Clarice realized the pattern, she might seek to disrupt the process. Not wanting to be perceived as needy, she would seek to separate from her son. That, Hannibal believed, would not be ideal.

Though he was sleeping, Hannibal was aware something was wrong. His brilliant mind, unable to wake to conscious thought, sought clarity where there was none to be found. He was in his home, that he could plainly see, but there were scents and sounds to which he was not accustomed. The rooms seemed to be longer, the walls, warped, sounds reverberating in odd ways, disturbing him. Stalking through the rooms, he could hear the echoes of his son calling to him, but could not find him, nor could he locate Clarice. He searched his memory palace. Was the problem here? Past? Present? Hannibal wandered the wide expanses, clearly puzzled.

_If the boy is here, where are you my Love? It isn't possible that you would have left him alone. Where are you Clarice? Where is my aunt? It isn't safe. The child mustn't be left alone._

Walking on the main level as the setting sun streamed through the open windows, a stiff, warm breeze wafted within the space. Nostrils flaring, he breathed deeply and could absolutely detect the presence of his son, but not his wife or aunt. His heart punched against his ribs, so much was the anxiety of the moment. 

_I am not alone. Danger is near._

Moving toward his son's scent, Hannibal thought to call out to the boy, but the sudden influx of another aroma stopped him cold.

_Chavez._

Knowing his son was somewhere in the home and that Chavez wished to do the boy harm, Hannibal understood stealth to be his greatest weapon. Though he moved quickly, his concern was silence. The scent was moving quickly as well, but his son's motion was minimal.

_The boy is in his crib, but Chavez is moving about the home with impunity. Do you believe yourself to be alone? Are you seeking my son? If you are, it is the last mistake you will ever make._

Father would be of no help now. Hannibal paused and within his dream, unleashed Predator, the incarnation of protection: the single most ferocious aspect of his inner-self. He would be stealth, he would be ferocious and he would be unyielding.

_I pity you, Chavez. I will not stop until you are dead._

Running from his study down the hallway to the foyer, Hannibal dashed toward the stairwell, gripping the bannister, using it to help him round the railing. Bounding up the carpeted stairs, two and three at a time, he headed toward the second level of the home, the now-identified source of the scent. Windows were open, curtains whipping and flapping with the wind, the swirling breezes confusing him, scrambling source of the aroma.

Reaching to his sleeve, he sought his harpy.

_Not there? What's happening? No matter. My body is the only weapon I will need._

Staying so close to the wall that he seemed a part of the plaster, pressed, his shoulders skimmed tightly along the surface, Hannibal continued to breathe deeply, attempting to isolate the scent. Palms floating along the wall to assist in the detection of any movement, heart pounding, he made no effort to slow the organ's beating, the excess adrenalin needed now. Another deep inhalation and suddenly the source was clear, recognition.

_My son's room? You __**dare**__ enter __**my**__ son's room. Rest assured, you will __**never**__ leave._

Gripping the doorframe, Hannibal lowered his body to a crouch, silently scuttling along the interior wall, careful to remain out of Chavez's sightline. Entering the room swiftly and silently, although Chavez was no more than two feet away, Hannibal remained undetected. Sliding along the wall, the concerned father watched from his periphery has he scanned the room for a weapon.

_Yes. That will do nicely._

Reaching for the item he'd identified as his weapon, careful to remain silent, Hannibal lifted the container to test its effectiveness. He hefted it quickly. Half full. Perfect. Tucking it under his arm, he pinned the container against his body, slowly twisting the cap to release the seal and allow free flow of its contents.

Though his heart clutched, Hannibal made no sound as Chavez leaned over Devyni's crib rail.

The aggressor reached for the baby, now huddled against the back of his crib in a futile attempt to avoid the contact. The boy called out for his father but didn't scream though he was clearly frightened as Chavez lifted Devyni awkwardly by one of the boy's arms. Young Hannibal dangled uncomfortably, kicking his legs as she struggled with all his might in an attempt to avoid being removed from the safety of the crib.

Shaking the boy, Chavez warned, "Stop kicking and just cry you little rat before I drop you on your worthless head! I need you to scream for your father. If you want me to put you down, you need you to call for Papa."

Devyni's mouth tightened, refusing to utter a sound as if understanding Chavez's intent and decisively denying him the satisfaction.

_That's right, my son. Don't allow fear to rule. Stand fast, Little Man._

Jiggling the boy, allowing the tiny body to sway, Chavez insured, "Don't worry. I don't want to kill you. Not without Hannibal here to witness my pleasure as I steal your last breath."

_Steal my son's last breath? Trust now that your death will be remarkably painful and my pleasure in it will be exceptional in every way._

Realizing that his child in this man's hands would limit his ability to attack, Hannibal stood very slowly, rising from behind Chavez in order that Devyni might see him.

The moment Devyni's eyes lighted on his father, confident, the boy fell silent.

Still dangling the boy's tiny body over the mattress, Chavez lowered and lifted him several times, attempting to frighten the child. As he dipped and raised the boy much like you would dunk a steeping tea bag, Chavez laughed.

"I'll cook you in a pot and feed you to your father, you scrawny rat. Cry for your father so I can smother you in front of his face. I want to hear him beg for your life as I watch the tears spill from his devilish eyes."

Stepping closer still, Hannibal studied Chavez's movements as he prepared to grip the wrist of the arm that held his son. It was his intention to immobilize the arm as he simultaneously disabled his son's attacker.

_Trust that my devilish eyes are the last you will see. Prepare to die, Chavez._

Using his left arm to grip the man across his body, his only intention to save his son, Hannibal wrapped his right hand around Chavez's forearm, gripping the wrist and trapping the limb. With one vicious yank Hannibal braced the wrist, tugging against the elbow, hyperextending the joint. Snapping the anatomical hinge like a dry twig, the bones whined and cracked, separating the skeletal segment at the elbow. The pain was so immediate and intense the man attempted to release the boy, but the grip was locked.

Hannibal slowly lowered the busted limb into the crib and slid his hand along Chavez's arm, peeling open the fingers and allowing Devyni to tumble gently to the mattress, uninjured. Releasing the man's now useless arm, Hannibal thrust the threaded cap of the container into the Chavez's mouth, trapping the cover within the now terrified man's teeth.

Shoving the lid as deeply as anatomy allowed, Hannibal hissed, "It is more likely my child will witness your last grunting breaths and I will feast on you, Chavez. Perhaps my son shall taste your flesh, as well. In either event, you will be dead, so it will matter little to you if my family or the maggots feast on your flesh."

Struggling to free himself, Chavez thrashed violently, crying out in agony as he clawed backward at Hannibal with the only functional limb he had at his disposal. The moment he reached for Hannibal's face, attempt to gouge at his captor's maroon eyes in a last desperate attempt to save his own life, Hannibal repeatedly squeezed the container, forcefully ejecting its contents.

The brutal and unrelenting motion caused a continual jet of talc to vacate the vessel. A rush of baby powder flooded Chavez's throat and sinuses, snorts of powder huffing in large clouds from his nose as he wheezed, desperate to clear his lungs.

Gagging, the perpetrator choked. Feeling no mercy, Hannibal gripped his throat, running the man across the room, sadistically slamming him against the wall. Cruelly crashing Chavez's head against the door, the man began to crumble, sliding down the door to the floor. Still choking on the flood of talc clogging his lungs, stealing the breath from him, he spewed dust and saliva in a frantic attempt to clear his respiratory system. Choking as he attempted to crawl toward the door, Chavez whimpered, the pain unbearable as he dragged himself along the floor, his useless limb trailing behind.

"Come my son, you should be sleeping. Daddy will hold you close. You may sleep soundly knowing you are safe."

Without another word, Hannibal went to the crib, and lifted his son, holding the boy's face against his chest. Obviously exhausted, Devyni closed his eyes, comforted by the sound of his father's strong heartbeat and firm grip. Wanting to fully enjoying this moment, Hannibal cradled his son, walking behind the crawling man.

"I thank you for this pleasure, Chavez. This will be quite the education for my son."

Still crawling, Chavez gasped, barely able to speak, "Leave…me…alone…"

"No." Stomping down on Chavez's back Hannibal crushed him to the floor, taunting, "Where are you going? Surely you haven't tired of my company so soon?"

Eyes wild as he searched for any escape, Chavez dragged his useless arm behind him, reaching with the other limb to claw across the floor. He begged, crying as the powder stung his eyes, his words croaking from within his talc-flooded mouth, "Let…me go…I didn't…hurt…the boy. You... can't…kill me…here…in front…of…your…son."

"No?" Hannibal sneered, "Watch me."

Drawing back his right leg, Hannibal kicked Chavez in the face, crushing his left orbital socket. Reacting to the blow, the man's head slammed violently against the floor, knocking him to a semi-conscious state. The man crumbled in a pile at Hannibal's feet.

"I am growing tired of your presence. It is time for you to die."

Standing over the near-lifeless man, Hannibal stepped directly on Chavez's throat, pressing hard. Holding his foot firm, the defensive father steadily increased the pressure, effectively choking off Chavez's already compromised oxygen supply. As the life seeped from his victim, Hannibal sang a lullaby to his son, rocking the unaware boy gently to sleep. Soon, Chavez began to convulse.

Hannibal sang.

Ever alert, Hannibal turned his head toward the door. His nostrils flared, his senses alert, he had but one thought…

_Clarice._

Husband, Father even, might have been concerned by her approach, but this was Predator, Protector. He would not relent, no matter the reaction, until this man at his feet had choked on his last breath.

_I cannot be stopped. My vengeance will not be quelled. I will taste this man's flesh. _

The deed was not yet done but Clarice would soon enter the room. There was no way to guess what her reaction might be. Not that Hannibal cared. What was unleashed cannot be controlled. Should not be controlled.

His body reacting in his sleep much like in his dream, Hannibal's heart began to thump wildly within his ribs. He stirred, restless within this dreamscape, his sub-conscious mind in turmoil recognizing that within his mind's eye, he was murdering a man in front of his son. True, the boy was sleeping, but would Clarice understand?

Intent on ending this man's life in order to protect his family, no matter what the personal cost, Hannibal Lecter stayed the course. Dying, Chavez gargled on his own bodily fluids as blood and bile flowed freely from his crushing larynx. Bubbling and frothing from his throat the biological juices mixed with muddled clumps of powder still gurgling from his mouth.

"You are taking far to long to die. Please be considerate, my son needs his sleep, so, shall we expedite the matter?"

Forcing his foot to increase the pressure Hannibal continued to sing a gentle lullaby, careful that his son not hear the man choking out his last breaths.

Clarice entered the room and hearing her husband singing to their sleeping son, immediately assessed the situation. Seeing Hannibal had a man pinned, unable to see this person's face, she raised her chin, questioning without speaking.

His voice intentionally soft, careful not to wake his son, Hannibal whispered, "It is Chavez. I couldn't find you and he had our son, Clarice. I do not believe there was any choice left me."

Staring at her sleeping son, Clarice very quickly ran the possibilities through her mind. The moment she began nodding in agreement, Hannibal could see she had come to a decision. Without a word passing between them, Clarice reached for their son, taking him from Hannibal's arms. Cradling the baby's head very gently against her breast, she turned the baby's face from her husband's activity.

Leaning in toward Hannibal, Clarice kissed him briefly, but tenderly. Her understanding tone offering solace as she assured, "He'll sleep with us tonight, H. If you cook anything, no leftovers in the fridge and be sure to clean up your mess."

Thrilled, digging in his heel and twisting it slightly, he guaranteed, "Yes, my Love. With pleasure."

Pausing to allow his wife the opportunity to leave the room, Hannibal waited, though he didn't release his foothold on Chavez. The moment the door closed, Hannibal smiled a wicked smile. He would finish this man, and he would enjoy it. He considered whether or not there was any part of the man worthy of a meal.

"Perhaps I shall feast on your tongue. It is the organ you used to offend my son. You referred to my progeny as a rat, did you not? Perhaps I should retrieve my poultry scissors and remove it before you're too far gone to provide me the pleasure of your pain. I do have a very fitting final resting place in mind. The dung heap behind the barn should prove appropriate. Yes, when one considers the absolute waste your life has been, the manure pile is quite a suitable choice. Inspired, in fact."

So close to his final moments, Chavez was incapable of responding, though the terror in his eyes informed Hannibal he understood his fate.

Winking at Chavez to add insult to injury, Hannibal lifted his foot, wagging it in the air to torment his victim before finally stomping down with all his might, snapping Chavez's neck.

Pacing around the body, the good doctor enjoyed the tableau. When he'd stored enough images of this dream to recall with enjoyment at a later time, Hannibal removed the body, carrying the lifeless corpse to an area behind the barn. Flopping the body into a hurriedly dug hole, he dumped carcass careful to fully cover it first rocks, then soil. He shoveled a huge mound of dung that had been collected from Hannah's stall to be used as fertilizer, useful in covering the stench from the soon-to-be rotting corpse.

Returning to his bedroom, Hannibal stood over sleeping wife and son for several minutes. As Hannibal watched Clarice and the boy sleep, the pattern of his baby's breathing and the rhythm of his ribs expanding and contracting against his wife's body fully relaxed Hannibal.

After showering he joined his family in bed, each member now safe and secure. Soon, in real life, as in his dream, the baby began to vocalize, waking both Hannibal and Clarice. Shifting his hips, Hannibal pulled his wife close, the child securely cradled between them as Clarice began to nurse her son. Nestled with her head on her husband's chest, Clarice sighed.

"My Love?"

"Yeah, H?"

"Are you quite alright?"

"I'm a little upset."

"May I ask why?"

"To be honest, I was having the most wonderful dream about you and I'm a little upset it was interrupted."

"Would you like to share the details of your dream?"

"Can't now. I'll have to tell you about it later."

"Why not now?"

"Not in front of the baby, H. It was personal."

"Personal? How so?"

"You know, for a brilliant man, you sure can be dense. I can't tell you about it because by personal I really mean intimate. Get it?"

Realization evolving, Hannibal smiled. Not willing to let the opportunity pass, he offered, "Ah, yes. Well, perhaps instead of telling me, when the child has finished feeding, you might allow me to return him to his crib after which you can show, rather than tell."

Laughing at the speed with which he made this suggestion, Clarice flirted, "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you, H?"

"Yes. Yes, I would."

"How about you, H? Your heart is beating pretty quickly. How do you feel?"

"If I'm being honest, I was having a dream as well, my Love."

Clarice entwined her legs around Hannibal's tempting, "Sounds promising, was I in it?"

Shifting his body to leave no question as to his intentions, Hannibal simply stated,

"Yes."

Not at all shy and believing his dream was sexual in nature as well, she tempted, "Hmm, sounds promising. How was I?"

Corralling Predator, Hannibal closed this incarnation within the strong walls of its cell and opened the door to Husband, to Lover. Predator, though welcome in his dreams and necessary, at times, in his life, would never be welcome in his bed.

Gripping his wife's hips Hannibal pulled her body tightly to his, shifting his frame, leaving no doubt of his current level of arousal. Because she believed his dream, too, was sexual in nature, Hannibal allowed her assumption. Commenting with a salacious tenor to his voice, his admiration of his wife was honest, vibrant and transparent, his hands smoothing over the curves and planes of her body, kissing her tenderly, he asserted with all sincerity, "Clarice, you were magnificent."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	37. Chapter 37

**THE FINAL MOVEMENT**

Hannibal sat at his piano and though he was playing what would be described as an extremely technical piece, his mind was traveling another path as well. He had been having nightmares as of late. Not an unusual circumstance. Processing each of the dreams, he understood his subconscious mind was attempting to find a solution to the same problem that occupied a portion of his thought processes every waking moment, as well. The middle movement brought a possibility, though he knew it was not something with which his wife would readily agree.

Lifting his hands from the keys, he set them on his lap, smoothing his large palms back and forth, massaging the length of his thighs.

_Will you fight me on this, my Love? How can I convince you that I must control this conflict, that I must have every advantage?_

Hannibal closed his eyes, lifted his hands and placing them on the keys once more, began. There was much more of this piece to play. Surely, during the final movement the answer would find him.

* * *

Pausing at the entrance to the music room, Clarice set her son down in front of the door, but decided not to enter.

Suddenly Hannibal's eyes opened, a wide smile emerging as he looked to the door, anticipating. Scant moments later, the door was pushed open by a tiny palm. Expertly navigating the entry, Devyni toddled into the room, his feet slapping awkwardly at the ground, thrilled to be moving about under his own powers. Finding himself now in the center of the space, unsettled, as he was accustomed to being carried, the boy turned in a circle for a moment, orienting himself. Nostrils flaring, Devyni turned his entire body to survey the room. Stepping in the direction of Hannibal, though he had yet to spot his father, he continued to inhale, tracking until his eyes finally fell upon his father. Success apparent the moment the boy's eyes found Hannibal, the gleam of recognition sparkled.

Leaning over and waving to encourage his son, Hannibal beckoned, "Come to Daddy, little one."

"Daddy!" Devyni squealed, running toward his father with reckless abandon. Hannibal took to his knees quickly recognizing that his son's balance would degrade as the boy's speed increased. With two or three steps to go, Devyni reached out, diving forward, his desire to be with his father exceeding the ability of his feet to keep up. Giggling uncontrollably, the happy toddler stumbled into his father's arms.

"Brilliant! Your walking improves every day." Lifting his son and holding him close against his chest, Hannibal traced his nose along the boy's cheek. He pretended to whisper but kept his tone loud enough to be heard by his wife, waiting just outside the door. "So, my son, will Mommy be joining us, or is she content to eavesdrop from the hall?"

Twisting in his father's arms, the boy waved his hand, pointing toward the door.

"Mommy! Mommy! Come here. Daddy wants Mommy!"

His eyes brightening, Hannibal exuded pride, exalting, "My, my…sentences already! You are an amazing boy, truly."

Bursting in the room upset she hadn't seen the event first hand, Clarice questioned excitedly, "Oh my god, H…was that Dev? Did he say that on his own or did you tell him what to say?"

Hannibal wagged his finger, playfully shaming his wife, "Why would I do that, Clarice? The boy needs no help from me. I have told you on numerous occasions, our son is exceptional in every way. Of course his language skills are advanced. As I expect no less of him, I have no need to put words in his mouth. You can trust from this day forward, whatever you hear, his comments are his own."

Sitting beside Hannibal, Clarice scooted against her husband, encouraging him to move further along the piano bench. Shifting, he allowed her space. Leaning into his body, she melted against him, her face flushed as his body reminding her of the dream she had the night before, though she made no mention of it.

"Well, we all know his father is a genius, because you can trust me when I say, we all know he doesn't get that from me."

Handling his son with much more physicality than Clarice, Hannibal lifted the boy above his head. Holding his son in the air in a modified flying Superman posture, Hannibal zoomed the boy back and forth. As his son laughed aloud, Hannibal encouraged his wife, "Do not sell yourself short, my Love, you are exceptionally literate."

Playfully slapping her husband's chest, she joked, "Yeah, nice try, but don't forget, H…just because you love me now, doesn't mean I'm going to let you off the hook. You teased me so much about my accent when we first met you made me feel like English was my second language."

Leaning away from the piano, Hannibal shifted his son, seating him on his lap. Allowing the boy to reach for the keys, Devyni happily played the piano. This position allowed Clarice to wrap her arms around her husband, resting her cheek on his chest.

Hannibal smiled, adding, "While you had a noticeable accent at the time, your exceptional intelligence was always apparent. As you know, I am not a man who suffers fools well and am patently not capable of lowering my standards in that regard. I most certainly could not and would not settle for a woman of lesser intelligence. You are everything to me, Clarice and are as gifted as you are a gift."

Her ear resting over his heart, she smoothed her palm in wide circles over the span of his chest. She loved this man more than she ever dreamed would be his age, she often entertained the thought that she would be without him one day, the thought bringing a certain melancholy to such moments. She pushed the thought aside, cheering, "Oh you charmer you! Sounds like you're rallying for a little loving tonight."

An amused chuckle rumbled within his chest as Hannibal corrected, "Actually, I'm rallying for _a lot_ of loving tonight, but that is up to you and entirely beside the point."

Clarice smoothed her hand across Hannibal's chest, giggling, "Yeah, why should tonight be any different than any other night?"

Holding his son, Hannibal's arm carefully wrapped around the boy's waist secured within the bend of the left arm, Hannibal reached for his wife with his right arm, pulling her close. "If you wish tonight to be different, perhaps I should up my game, somewhat."

Curling around his body, Clarice hugged Hannibal. In response, he reached for her burgeoning belly, gently forming his hand over the sloping curve, rubbing small circles continually over the arc of his wife's now very obvious and very advanced pregnancy. "Hell, H, if you were capable of upping your game any more, you'd be superhuman."

"One tries...one tries."

Laughing at her husband's wry sense of humor, Clarice considered, "You know, it's funny…the impression I had of you way back at the beginning of our relationship? It's nothing like you turned out to be."

It was a particularly loaded comment and one that Hannibal couldn't let go. "Confessing something, Clarice? Pray continue. I'm listening."

Snuggling close, she reached up, stroking aside the hair spilling across his forehead, curling it behind his ear as she remembered with fondness, "I don't know…you were a god to me…absolutely unreadable and so frighteningly brilliant. Untouchable."

A low hum as he acknowledged her comment, continuing, "And now that you know me as well as you do, you are of a different mind, yes? I'm certainly not untouchable."

Her hand floating down her husband's chest, Clarice skimmed down his abdomen and lower still, dancing her fingertips over his zipper. She teased for a moment, but a quick shift of her husband's hips warned her away.

"Probably not the best course of action, my Love. The boy…"

"I was just teasing, H, but I'm not taking no for an answer later on tonight."

Kissing the top of his wife's head, he whispered, "Have I ever turned you down?"

"No…and that's one of your most appealing attributes!"

The baby was unaware of the activity, happily banging his little hands up and down the keyboard.

"No. Not untouchable, but you sure as hell are incorrigible and I'm no better, so I can't complain. Now that I know you, really know you, I realize that if we're not having sex with each other, we're thinking about having sex with each other or we're sound asleep and dreaming about having sex with each other. I'm starting to see a bit of a pattern here. You?"

Humming once more, he spoke softly, "You are referring to last night?"

Nodding, Clarice laughed. "Yeah, funny. We were both dreaming about the same thing. Well, the same general thing, but probably not in exactly the same way because we have different…parts, but…well, you get my drift."

"Parts?"

"Yeah, boy and girl parts…get it?"

"Ah, yes. Well, if I'm being honest, Clarice…last night we were not having the same dream."

"What do you mean? Last night…you said I was magnificent."

"And you were just that, though I didn't say we were having sex. You made the assumption and at the time, I didn't see any point making a correction."

Obviously clueless to his reference, Clarice pursued, "Why not?"

This would be difficult to hear, but he would have to broach the topic eventually. Now was as good a time as any to set the groundwork. He would know her feelings about this tonight. If she didn't agree, he would need as much time as possible to plan ahead.

"Because the assumption was far more comforting than the reality and I thought it best to allow you a decent night of sleep."

Letting go of her husband, Clarice straightened, seeking his eyes as she asked, "What was the reality, H? You're freaking me out right now."

"Please try not to overreact, Clarice, your cortisol is spiking and our son is extremely intuitive. He will sense your heightened stress."

"Oh, don't dump that load of crap on me, H. You can't know that he has the same abilities you have."

"Yes, I can and yes he does, my Love. Have you not noticed the boy reacts to your moods? He clings to you when you're stressed or in any way upset."

"You're only upset because he's a little bit of a mama's boy."

"He is no such thing, Clarice. Do not forget I can sense the changes in you both. He responds to your moods almost as quickly as I. He is extremely gifted."

"Well, because I have no way of judging, if you say so, I'll take your word for it."

Nodding, Hannibal bounced his son on his lap, continuing to allow the baby to play the piano. As Devyni's chubby little baby hands bounced on the keys, Hannibal lowered his head, resting his nose within his son's hair. Breathing deeply, the proud father inhaled, his son's scent relaxing him. Clarice watched her husband tending their son with such unbridled love and affection. She adored this man, this boy and would love the child she carried with as much intensity. The feeling was overwhelming.

"H?"

"Yes, Clarice?"

"Last night?"

He hummed, signaling his understanding, but didn't speak, instead continuing to breath deeply, his cheek now resting alongside his son's.

"You were trying to protect me?"

Again, Hannibal tended his son, emitting a hum of comprehension but nothing more. Obviously thinking, he continued to touch and smell his son as if attempting to learn once more that which he had already memorized. Needing to see his eyes, Clarice leaned toward her husband and reached for Hannibal's hand, clasped gently over his son's torso. Unmoving, the attentive father reached with his other hand, covering his wife's. Stroking his thumb across the width of her hand, he kissed Devyni just over the baby's fontanel, the pulse thumping against his lips, causing him to smile. Closing his eyes and tilting his head, Hannibal rested his cheek on the baby's head.

Heaven. This is heaven. I will go through hell, if need be, but they will be safe.

"H? I think we need to talk, don't you?"

Not a sound. Was she ready? Would she hear him out? He would soon find out.

"H…please. It kills me when you shut me out like this. Please…I know it's not your way to talk when you're like this but I can't be alone…please, let me in."

His head low, nose delving within his son's hair, Hannibal sighed.

Continuing to urge, his wife squeezed his hand, assuring, "I love you, H…you know that I love you."

Again, the deep hum, that rumble of agreement telling her without words, I love you as well, Clarice. Stay beside me. Hear me.

Frustrated and misunderstanding his silence, Clarice raised her voice, insisting, "Talk to me, Hannibal."

Lifting his head, confused, her husband questioned, "Hannibal?"

"Yes _Hannibal!_ My H doesn't ignore me! Don't you trust me anymore?"

"With all that I am, Clarice."

"You trust me with all that you are, but not with this? That doesn't make any sense."

"It isn't that I don't trust you, because I do. I am considering whether or not you are prepared to show me the same amount of trust as I have a solution to the situation with Chavez. You will not agree with me, Clarice. This will be a leap of faith and I am not certain you will be willing to allow me my mind in this. The plan is…unconventional and will go against everything in which you believe."

"What's your plan, H? Why won't I agree?"

"I'm going to kill him."

"I know that. We have no choice."

"I'm going to kill him _here_, Clarice. In our home."

Clarice sat for a moment. Her husband's eyes were intense. She'd only seen that look once before. The night they made love and he trapped her, restricted her movement…denied her breath even. He was attempting to teach her a lesson at the time. That there might be times he would know better than she…that he needed her to trust him, even though everything within her told her it was wrong. That is was dangerous. Unblinking and intense, without words, he spoke to her heart. Setting her thoughts and fears aside, with her heart, she listened, asserting without regret or doubt, "Okay, H…What's the plan."

His heart soaring, filled with pride, once more, Hannibal sighed.

"Clarice…you are magnificent."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	38. Chapter 38

**LAYING THE GROUNDWORK**

The meeting with Mr. Cervelli was scheduled for seven p.m. with Hannibal strongly, but graciously suggesting the event be held at his home. In lieu of an official meeting Hannibal informed the setting would be, for all intents and purposes, a social event. He further required Mr. Cervelli turn up to dinner with both his children and his lovely wife, believing this would be the perfect chance to bring their families together for the sake of appearances. Hannibal's plan assumed Magdalena would become his informational pipeline to Chavez, effectively leaking what specific facts the good doctor wished passed to the drug kingpin.

For his part, Cervelli was not in a hurry to show up to Hannibal's home without what he believed to be a good enough reason. In his mind, the risk wasn't worth the reward. Terrified, he qualified the rejection, "There is no need, Doctor Lecter. Really, you are doing so much for my family as it is, I don't wish to inconvenience you further."

Amused by the weak protests, imagining he could detect the stench of fear through the phone, Hannibal countered, "If you did not wish to inconvenience me, you would not have involved me in the first place."

The moment of silence told Hannibal, Mr. Cervelli had yet to concede.

Cervelli indicated, "That is my point. My family and I've put you to so much trouble I'm embarrassed to ask any more of you."

Know one knew better than Hannibal Lecter the affect he had on people. In fact, no one enjoyed more the fear he could instill with a wink or a wave. The friendliest of gestures set hearts pounding, therefore he understood fully why Cervelli balked at the invitation but Hannibal ignored the veiled protests. Diplomatic to the last, he insisted, "Am I correct that you have a large overseas shipment of live animals and fleece products planned in just two weeks time?"

Cervelli paused, his voice returning quietly, "Yes, that's correct."

He had him now. There was no way Cervelli could argue this logic. Continuing his line of questioning, Hannibal asked, "And will not Chavez expect to conceal large quantities of his product within that shipment?"

Again, a faint, almost whispered response, "Yes, that is what I've been told."

Pursuing the weakness, Hannibal cut to the chase, advising, "Would it not be in your best interest to have this situation concluded prior to that shipment?"

The voice at the end of the phone went silent.

Knowing he had Cervelli dead to rights and needing this meeting for his plan to come off, Hannibal cross-examined with the skill of a prosecutor, interrogating, "And would it not be best if Chavez truly believed we are more than mere acquaintances, Mr. Cervelli?"

Desperately attempting to avoid being drawn into what he believed was Hannibal's web, Cervelli offered, his voice quivering with fear, "I thought it would be enough to tell him that we're friends. I didn't think it would be necessary to actually see each other socially."

Intentionally lowering his voice to appear as if he had taken umbrage, Hannibal spoke, "Am I not fit company, Mr. Cervelli?"

Believing this very dangerous man had indeed resented his comment, Cervelli responded protectively, stammering, "I…I didn't mean to…to suggest..."

Overcome, Cervelli could not finish the comment leading Hannibal to offer, "Whatever your intention, that is precisely what you did suggest."

This game of cat and mouse immensely pleased Hannibal. In order to insure that each family member was present, he needed to convince Cervelli that anything less would be taken as a personal affront. The man would need to be terrified that Hannibal would not act to protect if he took exception to his treatment. The silence so much screamed Cervelli's fear into the phone that Hannibal knew he had won.

Praying an apology might atone, Cervelli begged, "Please, please, don't be angry with me, Dr. Lecter. I appreciate everything you've done for my family. You are a great man…truly, I meant no offense."

"None taken, but keep in mind if you are using me as your pit bull, you might at least assist my efforts to keep up appearances."

Finally conceding to the power of Hannibal's reasoning, Cervelli relented, "Yes, I do see that."

Providing the coup de grace designed to end the debate, Hannibal asserted, "I understand your fear of me, Mr. Cervelli and your desire to keep as far away from me as possible. Trust me when I say you will not need to worry about my presence in your life for much longer as I have not want, nor need of your friendship. Let us also keep in mind that I did not seek you out. It was you who entreated me. When the threat to both our families has been nullified, you will never hear from me again. You might at least make some attempt to keep up your end of the bargain. If not, I will do what I have to do to protect my family and will no longer consider the safety or well being of yours."

His throat still gripped with fear, Cervelli's voice cracked, "Exactly what do you mean when you say the situation will be concluded?"

Far more intelligent than to be so easily entrapped, Hannibal returned, "That can be discussed tonight, Mr. Cervelli. Such conversations are better left in person."

Embarrassed he hadn't considered how foolhardy it would be to have that particular conversation over the phone. Regrouping, he agreed, "Yes…yes, I understand."

Unaffected either way, Hannibal confirmed, "Then I shall see you and your lovely family at seven?"

Nervous to agree, but understanding the need for such an event Cervelli was penitent, affirming, "My apologies and thank you for your patience, Doctor Lecter. We will see you tonight."

Needing to add one very important fact, Hannibal quickly inserted, "Before you go, allow me to explain that we are having some measure of difficulty with the security system at the compound. When you arrive, activate the intercom at the main gate and I will provide the security code for you to input manually. There is an electrical problem with the system therefore I cannot set the alarm, nor can I activate the lock remotely from the home. Damned troublesome, but the security company cannot repair the system before Monday. Please allow me to apologize in advance for the inconvenience."

"Not at all, thank you, Doctor Lecter. I'll remember to do just that. Goodbye."

"Ciao."

* * *

The groundwork so carefully laid, Hannibal set out to search the rooms for his aunt knowing Clarice was busy in the next room feeding lunch to their son. Searching the air, he realized Lady Murasaki was on the next level of the home. She would have to be on board for this plan to come off without a hitch. Walking to the upper level, Hannibal found her working busily in the laundry room.

Rapping his knuckles on the door requesting entrance, Hannibal leaned informally against the doorframe, questioning casually, "Good morning, my aunt. Did you sleep well?"

Pleased to have Hannibal addressing her in such an informal fashion, Lady Murasaki thrilled, "Yes, Hannibal. I've slept well every night in this house, thank you."

"Not at all. You are a treasured member of our family and are, of course, most welcome. Do you have a moment? I should like to talk to you about a matter of great importance."

Her head turning quickly, Lady Murasaki smiled widely. He was showing a level of trust in her that he had not previously. This was something that was obviously important to her nephew. She would not let him down.

"Please, I'd be thrilled to help in any way I can."

Nodding as if he expected just that answer, Hannibal continued, "You have been aware of the threat to my family?"

This would be a serious conversation. Having been attending to baby clothing, Lady Murasaki paused mid-fold, responding solemnly, "Yes Hannibal, I've been very aware and very careful."

"Of that I am certain. I will have need of your assistance tonight, if you are amenable. Mr. Cervelli and his family will be arriving for dinner. His daughter, Magdalena is very heavily involved with the man I consider a great threat to our family."

_Our family._ The moment he said it, her heart swelled. The pairing of two simple words and she instantly knew she was fully accepted. In Hannibal's eyes she was now a part of his family. She would do whatever was required to protect those they loved. Perhaps old wounds were healing…maybe forgiven, as well.

After placing the folded clothing atop the finished items in the laundry basket, Lady Murasaki reached for Hannibal, gently grasping his forearm as she avowed, "Ask anything of me. Anything, Hannibal, and it will be done."

Recognizing the earnest nature of the affirmation, Hannibal covered her hand with his, explaining his thoughts. "I would like you to give Magdalena a tour of the home with particular focus on the master suite and young Hannibal's room. There are also several very specific points of which I would like you to make her aware, though it is important she have no idea that is our intent."

This seemed an odd, perhaps, even dangerous request. If she was going to do this, she would need to know what Hannibal was thinking.

"Might I ask why?"

Releasing her hand, Hannibal hefted the large basket of laundry and lifted his chin, directed her to lead the way. He continued to speak as they walked through the home. Their destination: the baby's room.

"Of course you may. I am requesting you to do so because I wish to set a trap for Chavez. The most expeditious method would be to leak information to Magdalena, but the information must be exceedingly specific for this to work."

Pausing just outside the laundry room, the concerned aunt began assessing the situation, questioning, "And you are you certain she is providing information to this man?"

Matching her stop Hannibal waited, speaking candidly he suggested, "As certain as one can be based on her past behavior. You needn't volunteer to escort her about the home, as I am quite certain she will make the request. It is far too tempting for her to pass up an opportunity to be of service to Chavez. She will most assuredly ask for a tour."

"You don't believe she will ask either you or Clarice?"

"No, I am quite certain she will not. Magdalena would be suspicious if either Clarice or I were to offer to show her around, as she knows we do not trust her. There is a chance because of your graceful nature and humble demeanor she will assume you can be easily manipulated."

Still perplexed, Lady Murasaki walked to the nursery with Hannibal matching her pace. It took her two or three steps to process his suggestion before asking, "And that's a good thing?"

Hannibal nodded emphatically, "Yes, that is exactly what we want her to believe… that she can outsmart you. This is a woman who thinks her powers of persuasion are superior. She is unaware of our relationship and that, too, is an advantage."

Lady Murasaki continued to the baby's room with Hannibal following dutifully. Upon entering, she directed Hannibal set the basket on the large ottoman in front of the oversized armchair designated the reading area.

Unsure she understood the benefit, she continued to question, "How is that an advantage?"

Standing tall, his bearing regal, Hannibal spoke with confidence, as he asserted, "It is a tremendous advantage."

"Why?"

Hannibal's eyebrow arched as if the answer should have been plain.

"Because she has no idea you are a Lecter."

Lady Murasaki began transporting baby clothing back and forth from the basket to Devyni's wardrobe. Her posture was straight, but her head remained bowed as she whispered, "But...I am a Lecter by marriage alone."

Stepping in front of his aunt to block her passage to the basket, Hannibal took her hands in his. Seeking her eyes, he bowed low, waiting for her to look up. When finally their eyes met, Hannibal emphasized, "That is enough. Lecter men choose their spouses well, respecting strength and intelligence. My uncle did not marry you for your beauty, though it is great. He married you for your morality, your brilliance and your tenacity. You are absolutely fierce in your devotion to your family. Though we have not agreed on everything, there was a time I needed your help and you did not let me down. I am asking your assistance once more."

Bringing his hands to her face, she kissed them briefly and pressed them to her cheek, responding, "Anything…Everything."

"Thank you, my dear aunt. Let me tell you my plan."

* * *

Though he heard every word she said, Chavez didn't believe Magdalena when she explained her plans for the evening. "Why the hell would Lecter invite you, or anyone for that matter, to his home? You're lying."

Curling around Chavez's body much like a cat would entwine around its owner's leg, Alena entreated, "Why don't you believe me? I am telling you the truth, I swear on my life! I _am_ going to the Lecter's for dinner. My father has told you on numerous occasions that he and Hannibal are friends. Why don't you believe the man would invite us?"

Attempting to unwrap her from his body, Chavez insisted, "Because your father is a liar. He is no more a friend to Hannibal Lecter than I am. It is simply a tale he tells everyone to make me fear him. It doesn't make any sense that Lecter is allowing you and your family to see the layout of his home. It makes him vulnerable."

Having been peeled from Chavez like skin from a banana, Alena crossed her arms and pouted like a petulant child. "He doesn't consider my parents a threat, he considers them friends. And why would having a group of friends to dinner make a person vulnerable? Why would he think they would do something to hurt him, they go to the same church for god's sake."

Unmoved, Chavez commented, "I know many sinners who sit in the pews of churches."

"What do you want me to do, tell them I won't go?"

"I'm not sure…I have to give this some thought."

Pacing up and down the main aisle between the rows of stalls, Alena warned, "You don't have much time to think about this Chavez. My father insisted we go together as a family and warned that I be ready by six-thirty. He said it would be rude to be late, so either I'm faking sick and upsetting my father or I go into the lion's den and get you every bit of information you need to know."

The devious little wheels began to turn in Chavez's head. In his mind he was outsmarting Hannibal Lecter. With video he wouldn't need anyone else and would not have to chance someone turning on him. With Alena's help, he could do this alone.

Grabbing Alena by the arm, he pulled her close, whispering, "You swear on the lives of your family you can get me video inside his home?"

Not appreciating being manhandled a mere ten feet from the stall in which she'd been violated by Chavez and his men, Alena drew back her arm, slapping him across the chest with such ferocity her palm stung. "Watch where and how you touch me. I said I can get you video of what ever you want. You just have to tell me what to look for."

Ignoring the slap but mouthing at the hook Hannibal so carefully baited, Chavez responded greedily, "Everything! I want to know everything! I need to know the layout of the home, the security system, search for weaknesses…anything I can capitalize on. If I'm meant to face San La Muerta, it must be on my own terms. He's very crafty so I'll need every advantage."

Reaching into her hip pocket, Alena produced her cell phone. Dangling it like a carrot in front of a mule, she wagged it back and forth, promising, "I'll take video and photos with my phone. We can be in constant contact throughout the night. You will see what I see."

Leaning his forearms against the roughly hewn timbers of the stall's railing, Chavez had a faraway look in his eye. He was planning the grisly scene. In his mind's eye, he could see the moment of Hannibal's death, could feel the blade passing between the ribs. Smiling as if it were happening right before his eyes, Chavez imagined the no-longer-fierce man, bound, gagged and very slowly bleeding to death.

Better yet, what if he were gasping out his last as the drug lord took his wife. Yes. Clarice, she was called. She was a handsome woman. Yes, he would do just that. He would use his hands to crush the tiny skull of the man's child and just before Hannibal died, Chavez would rape his wife. There would be nothing he could do but sit and watch her being screwed senseless. Chavez wondered, could he make her moan just as the life ebbed from her husband's body? Would he cry? Beg for mercy? _It will be perfect._

"If I hit him at home where his guard is down he won't be carrying a weapon, and there he has much to protect. There he's vulnerable."

Seeing just how excited Chavez was at the prospect, Alena encouraged his depravity, asking explicitly, "Will you catch him in his bed…with his wife, perhaps?"

"I'll pull him from within his wife's body if need be, but first, I'll pay a visit to his son. Alena, be sure to find the boy's room and measure it in relation to Hannibal's bedroom. Get me video evidence if you can. If I can enter the home in the middle of the night and get hold of his son, I will have the control of the situation. He will be at my mercy."

"Do you think he's going to let me walk around the house unaccompanied? He doesn't trust me."

"Ask his wife. Women love showing off their homes."

"Maybe. She's ex-FBI."

Lowering his voice to avoid being overheard, Chavez advised, "Just ask for the bathroom. If you're wandering around you can just tell them you got lost or you got curious. Compliment the home. He's an arrogant bastard. Appeal to him. You said he wanted you. Get on your hands and knees and suck him off under the table if you have to but get me the layout of that house."

Again, Magdalena slapped Chavez. "Don't disrespect me, you bastard, or you can get the information yourself. It's not like you can beat him without me. He is a lion. You're nothing more than a lamb in his eyes."

Chavez grabbed for Magdalena' hands, gripping her wrists to stop the slapping. He was more concerned with Hannibal than anything Magdalena might do to him.

"We will see. Even the mighty lion can be captured if the trap is properly baited. Get me the information and I'll set the trap. Are there servants? Does anyone work or live in the home aside from Hannibal and Clarice?"

Kicking at the straw on the floor of the building, Alena wondered whether it was the same straw on which she'd been abused. Anger rising within, she was becoming unsure of why she was helping Chavez at all, noting, "There is. I've seen them at church and at market with an elderly Asian woman. The way she dotes on the baby, I assumed she was some kind of a nanny. She definitely hovers over the boy."

Turning toward Magdalena, Chavez became unusually animated, boasting, "Trust me when I say that she is the answer. Ask her to tour you around. Talk about the baby and how you would love one of your own. Ask to see the nursery. Women are suckers for baby talk, she won't be able to resist."

_What do you know about women, you animal!_ She held her tongue, instead agreeing, "That's a great idea, I'm sure that will work. Now that I've promised to help deliver Hannibal to you…what will you do for me? What do I get for dragging the lion by his scruff and staking him at your feet?"

Though her agitation was clear, Chavez was wholly unaware of her firmly entrenched resentment. He made what he believed would be a magnanimous gesture, offering, "If you deliver the information I need and your position _may_ change. Prove that you are loyal and you will be trusted once more. You help protect me from the monster and perhaps you will be worthy of being my woman."

_Prove that you are human and maybe I'll consider it, you animal!_

Unable to hide her anxiety, she blurted out, "Worthy of being your woman? You are no more than human garbage. You passed me around like a dinner platter for your friends to feast off. A real man does not act like that toward a woman. A real man would kill anyone who touched his woman. Do you think Hannibal Lecter would allow any man to live if they had defiled his woman. He would kill that man and serve him for dinner. Instead of killing them, you served me up as if I were a meal."

"Prove yourself worthy and every man who offended you will die. You will hold the power of life or death over each of them."

The thought appealed to Magdalena. Not that she'd ask for their death, but the thought that she held that amount of control gave her an authority that she found incredibly empowering.

"I'll bring you everything you want and more and when I've told you every last weakness, you'll have each of the beasts who touched me apologize on their hands and knees, begging for their lives."

"You bring me Hannibal's weakness and you will have what you want."

Magdalena smiled imagining each of the men crawling through the dirt and straw of the barn floor. She pictured them on their hands and knees begging, crying for their lives as she lorded over them, deciding who would live and who would die.

"And if I so choose, you will slit their throats like the pigs they are?"

"Yes."

"Any of them?"

"All if that is your wish."

"I'll be leaving in an hour. I imagine I'll be home by eleven. Line up your animals, Chavez. I'll expect my payment tonight."

Alena extended her arm toward Chavez, dropping her hand at the wrist, waving it up and down as she waited. Dutifully, though the action was distasteful to him, he reached for her fingertips, bowed and kissed the top of her hand.

Smiling, Alena nodded. "Be ready to move on him. Don't underestimate the man…Hannibal Lecter is dangerous. Once you corner him, you'll have to kill him quickly."

"You get me what I need and I'll kill them all but not quickly. Hannibal will die as slow a death as any man has ever experience. This, I'm going to enjoy."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's note: It's quite a long chapter, enjoy and let me know what you think! We're getting closer..._closer!_**

**FRIENDS FOR DINNER**

Pulling in front of the security gate, Mr. Cervelli lowered his car window and activated the intercom. Being that Hannibal wanted Alena to question the action, he waited much longer than would normally be his custom.

"What are you doing, Papa? Why isn't the gate opening if he can see us with the security camera? Isn't he expecting us?"

Looking over his shoulder toward his daughter, Mr. Cervelli explained, "Yes, Magdalena we are expected but Doctor Lecter is having trouble with his security system. He will provide us with the code momentarily."

Immediately realizing this code would provide access to the home undetected, Magdalena surreptitiously slipped her phone from her hip pocket, preparing to store the numbers.

As if realizing she was prepared for the information, Hannibal's voice interrupted the conversation. "Greetings. Input the code 4-2-6-1-2-3-1, wait for a moment and the gate will unlock. Do not drive forward until the gate clears the side of your vehicle."

As Hannibal spoke the code, Alena keyed it into her phone saving the sequence for Chavez. She then sent a message_: Lecter main gate security code 4-2-6-1-2-3-1. System out of order more info will follow. _

Cervelli keyed the code into the touch pad. Upon the opening of the gate, he confirmed, "The code worked perfectly, thank you, Dr. Lecter."

"Not at all, my friend. Welcome to our home. I will greet you upon arrival."

Almost choking on the word, _friend_, Hannibal prepared for the utter psychological boredom of entertaining a family he considered of average intelligence at best. Hannibal was certain the Cervelli's would be considered by most people to be well meaning and pleasant with the exception of Alena. Not that she was particularly offensive. More, he believed her to be misguided and overindulged. The problem here was the fact that her spoiled nature created a very dangerous situation. Though it was not his preference to deal with females in this light, if need be, he would deal with Alena. She had been warned; she alone would make the choice.

_Wouldn't it be entertaining to allow Clarice the pleasure of handling Magdalena Cervelli? No, that would be too cruel. That foolish child wouldn't stand a chance. _

Mr. Cervelli parked the car at the end of the driveway just across from where his host stood straight and tall, hands clasped firmly behind his back, imagining Clarice gutting Alena with the speed of a hunter dressing a deer.

Polite to the last, Hannibal waited patiently for his guests to exit the vehicle, greeting them one by one in an amiable manner. As he escorted them to the home, he spoke quietly, "Welcome, my friends. I am looking forward to this evening and hope you will find the dinner agreeable. We will be having the traditional asado, I made the chorizo myself; I hope you've all come hungry."

From the uncomfortable smiles and nods Hannibal understood they were questioning the source flesh for the asado and thought it might be additionally amusing to be intentionally ambiguous as to the base meat for the chorizo. That thought pleased him greatly, Hannibal thoroughly occupied by the cannibalistic confusion his selections would engender.

* * *

Their guests seated, Clarice joined Hannibal in the kitchen. It was important their guests believed Lady Murasaki was responsible for childcare, so Clarice assisted in the service.

"Asado, H?"

Assembling dishes as his wife watched, Hannibal explained, "It is a traditional Argentine main course."

Rolling her eyes, the question having been rhetorical, Clarice responded sarcastically, "I _know_ what it _is_. Did you make your own chorizo?"

Leaning comfortably against his wife, Hannibal filled large platters with a variety of carved meats and sausages. "Of course I did. Why? Do you think it a poor choice?"

Bumping her hip against his, she pushed him to the side, taunting, "Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H! You and I both know you did it so they'd question the content of the sausage and the source of the meats you were serving."

Lifting the platters, Hannibal bent low and kissed his wife.

"So you've found me out, my brilliant girl. I have such little entertainment in that regard, my Love. Do you begrudge me this small measure of amusement?"

"Not that I begrudge it, I just want you to know that I know what you're up to, even when you don't think I know what you're up to."

"You are as brilliant as you are lovely, Clarice."

"Save the butter for the bread, H."

"Yes, my Love."

* * *

The dinner, though uncomfortable at the start, went exceptionally smoothly. Hannibal was gracious, Clarice, charming and amusing. Lady Murasaki sat quietly, attending to Devyni throughout the dinner. Intentionally misdirecting his guests, Hannibal's aunt was not identified as such. She was introduced and a great deal was said about how invaluable she was proving to be for young Hannibal, but no more. The Cervelli family had not been lied to; it was simply that it was not in his best interest to have Magdalena realize this woman was more than an employee.

"He's an adorable child. Very precocious for his age," Mrs. Cervelli offered to Clarice.

"Yes, he's very bright." Clarice responded as she handed Lady Murasaki a small plate of finely chopped food for the child, "Every day he reaches a new milestone. We really are incredibly proud."

"Magdalena was very advanced for her age…her brother too. Until the accident, he was quite bright."

"Not anymore. He's as dumb as a…"

Placing a closed fist over his mouth, Hannibal cleared his throat, interrupting the comment. Realizing Hannibal directed her to care for her brother, Alena shifted uncomfortably.

The young man smiled, commenting proudly, "At least I know what 'be on your best behavior' means. It means you don't say rude things when you're a guest in someone's house for dinner. I guess that means I'm smarter than you."

Not approving of the reference to the young man's disability, Hannibal turned to Mr. and Mrs. Cervelli, inserting, "He is an exceptional young man and his moral compass is beyond compare. You should be quite proud."

The not-so-hidden insult to Alena had been wasted on the Cervelli's. Thankfully the compliment to their son was not. Mrs. Cervelli beamed, "Yes, he is a very trusting and loving young man. Thank you for recognizing that. It really is his best quality."

"His best, but not only fine quality, I'm sure, isn't that correct, Alena?"

Remembering Hannibal's warning that she treat her brother well, Alena "Yes, Doctor Lecter, he's a very good brother."

"It is my hope that young Hannibal will protect and care for his sister with the same love and dedication."

Popping another bite of food into his mouth, the young man smiled at his sister. The moment she turned her face from him, he stuck his tongue out. Hannibal smiled. There wasn't much the boy could do to fight back, but he'd found his own way to get a bit of his own back now and then. Hannibal thought it a good thing.

* * *

Several hours passed before Hannibal looked up at the clock to see it was approaching ten p.m. with just the dessert course remaining.

"Lady Murasaki, would you mind tending to young Hannibal while I attend to the dessert course. Though he has been very well behaved it is well past his bedtime. I wouldn't want him overtired."

Realizing it would be time for her part in the charade, Lady Murasaki prepared herself. Think subservient. Bow, be gracious. "Yes. Of course, I would be most happy to handle the young master's bedtime ritual."

Magdalena saw the opportunity. "Excuse me, could I come along and help with the baby? He's so adorable. I would absolutely love it if I could be of some use."

Lady Murasaki stood and removed young Hannibal from his seat, clutching him protectively to her chest. She looked to her nephew. Hannibal nodded his assent.

"Yes, of course, you are quite welcome. Please, follow me and I'll show you the nursery. It's lovely."

Scrambling quickly to her feet as if trying to flee the room before Hannibal changed his mind, Alena followed Lady Murasaki. As soon as they were out of the dining area, she removed her cell phone and began recording. As they passed the main foyer, she tilted the camera toward the front door, panned the security panel and the rest of the entryway. She then held it in front of her, recording every step from the front door, up the flights of stairs to the Lecter's bedrooms.

"The baby's nursery is this way. It's not far from the master suite."

"I'd love to see the rooms, if you wouldn't mind. It's such a lovely home."

Amazed at the ease of the process, Lady Murasaki smiled. Hannibal was right. She wouldn't have to lead any part of the process. This young woman's focus was intense, making the task easier than imagined.

"Yes, it is. I'd be happy to take you on a tour."

Walking her in and out of each room on the upper floor, Lady Murasaki showed her every entrance and exit to each bedroom. She went as far as to show the girl Hannibal and Clarice's suite, including the master bath and attached sitting room.

Thrilled her plan was proceeding so smoothly, Alena continued filming while documenting aloud each fact for Chavez. "The rooms are really far apart, how do they know when the baby is awake? It must be ten or fifteen feet from the master suite to the baby's nursery. Do they keep their bedroom door closed?"

"It's actually more than twenty feet from one room to the other, because the corridor to Hannibal and Clarice's suite is unusually long, though it hasn't been a problem. There's an intercom system that alerts the parents when the child needs them. And normally, yes, the door to the Lecter's suite is not only closed, but locked, as well. They've been leaving their door unlocked and wide open because the system isn't functional right now and that worries me a little."

"Why would that worry you? I'm sure the little guy is safe enough. Since they leave their door open, I'm sure they can hear him."

"I don't mean to say I'm worried they won't hear him. What I mean is, I'm concerned the entire intercom system, the video security system and accompanying alarms are out of order. The technician arrived this morning and said it was far too big a job to tackle alone. He believes it to be a widespread electrical problem so it can't be repaired before Monday. This being Friday, having so many days pass with no security is a definite concern. It's a large house. Hannibal's hearing is quite good, but a lot of fuss has been made over his abilities and I have to be honest, I just haven't seen evidence of it. Not that I've been with the family long. I've only just arrived a few months ago. Perhaps his senses have dulled over the years. I'd never admit it to a stranger, but since you're a trusted friend, I've noticed…he is getting older."

"What have you noticed? Is he okay?"

"He is receiving treatments, so his strength isn't what it was."

"Treatments?"

"I'm not sure of what kind. I do know he's been receiving them with some regularity. I'm sorry, I've probably said far too much already. You won't tell them I've been sharing personal information, will you? I wouldn't want to lose my position."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I feel so bad…do you think he would even hear if someone got in? Are you going to be okay?"

"I hope so…I think if it were a group of intruders they would probably be detected, but a lone invader? That's what scares me because I really do believe that would go unnoticed. With no alarm, it's a frightening thought."

Realizing a smile would be totally inappropriate to the conversation the young woman covered her mouth as if in shock. Trying desperately to mask the utter glee she was experiencing at her presumed discovery, Alena sought verbal confirmation. "Wow…that is a frightening thought. Especially if the _entire_ alarm system isn't working."

Masking her knowledge of Alena's dubious intent, Lady Murasaki responded with faux ignorance, "It doesn't work at all. As a matter of fact, Clarice wanted to cancel dinner. She didn't want Hannibal to provide the code to the main gate, but since it was friends of the family, she relented. Hannibal and Clarice trust your father, so they went ahead with the plans. It does frighten me, but Hannibal is unconcerned."

"He's not worried at _all_. I'd think he might take some additional precautions."

"He believes his reputation is enough to keep people away, but I think the opposite could be true. A man might want to make his own reputation at Hannibal's expense."

"What do you mean, at Hannibal's expense?"

"If someone were to enter the home and kill Hannibal Lecter, they would become instantly famous, and that worries me. After all…the baby."

Tousling the hair on the top of the boy's head, Alena cooed at Devyni, speaking in her best baby voice, "Who would harm such an adorable baby?"

"Someone trying to get at the father."

"No…not a cutie like this, and I'm sure Hannibal's right. Anyone who tangled with him would be foolish, for sure. Do they have dogs? That would at least be some protection. They would start barking if an intruder came into the home."

"Actually, Hannibal has been looking at several different breeds of dogs for protection purposed, but he hasn't settled on a particular kennel or breed. The only animals on this compound are horses. Clarice has one, Hannibal has chosen an animal for himself, and they are looking at ponies for the boy. No dogs."

Lady Murasaki placed the baby in his crib, kissed the top of his head and covered him with a small blanket.

"Goodnight, young Hannibal. Sleep well, brilliant boy."

Turning off the lights, she closed the door.

* * *

Before long, the evening was over and the guests were being escorted safely to their car. Hannibal walked alongside the Cervelli parents with their the son bounding ahead to the car. The evening had been trying on him. He'd been told to be on his best behavior. That meant, don't talk and they won't know you're dumb. He was very well behaved. Alena was hanging back lurking in the foyer assessing the security system. Clarice pounced.

"Alena?"

"Yes, Mrs. Lecter?"

_You bet your ass, I'm Mrs. Lecter._

"So what did you think when you saw the men Hannibal killed?"

Alena could feel the flush of fear painting her cheeks.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about."

Eyes burning like lasers into Alena's skull, Clarice continued, "No? Are you calling my husband a liar, or are you attempting to protect him? If it's the latter, there's no need. I know perfectly well what happened in the wooded area around the dirt track where your idiot friends died and I know exactly how my H killed them. He's my husband. Do you think we have secrets between us? We don't. Why didn't you call the police as Hannibal instructed?"

"I…I…didn't want to get my parents in trouble."

"You don't give a rat's ass about your parents or you wouldn't have let a bunch of depraved drug dealers anywhere near your parent's property. You were protecting Chavez."

The moment Clarice mentioned Chavez, a visible shudder moved through Magdalena. Trained not by the FBI, but by her husband to recognize such minute physical responses, Clarice jumped on the indication. Closing the distance between them, Clarice was nearly toe-to-toe with Alena. Though they were nearly equal in height, Clarice's intimidating presence made it seem as if she loomed over Alena.

"You're surprised, again? Yes, I know who Chavez is. I also know you threw yourself at my husband, offering him sex in exchange for your life."

"I was afraid."

"Of Hannibal? That's ridiculous. You're a child. He doesn't kill children."

Nervously looking toward the door, Alena muttered, "Yes…of Hannibal, and I'm not a child. I'm a woman."

"Okay, so if you're a woman, I can talk to you like a woman. If you ever offer yourself to my husband again or touch him in anyway you won't be _getting_ any older. You say you're afraid of Hannibal, but I'm the one you should be afraid of. Hannibal doesn't enjoy killing women and tries to avoid it. I once killed a mother holding her child, so I'd have no trouble killing you to protect mine. If you fuck with my family, you're going to die."

Petrified, Alena began backing up, reaching for the door as she attempted to explain, "I'm not fucking with your family. I swear to god, I'm not."

"Just so we're clear…"

Leaping forward, Clarice reached for the cellphone Magdalena had clutched in her hand. She didn't bother accessing the photos or attempt to erase the video, she simply programmed her cell phone number into Magdalena Cervelli's phone and handed it back to the girl.

"If something is about to happen that involves my husband or my family, I'd better get a phone call. If not, you won't have to worry about my husband. Jesus Christ could come down from his cross and even he wouldn't be able to save your ass. I'll slit your goddamned throat, smile while I do it, and even my husband won't be able to stop me. Do you understand what I'm saying? You will die and I will be the one who kills you. End of story."

"I understand."

Opening the door, Clarice shooed the girl through the entryway as if sweeping out the trash.

"Now get the fuck out of my house."

Terrified and totally taken aback, Alena dashed out the front door to join her parents.

From the corner of his eye, Hannibal noted obvious panic in Alena's movement, though he said nothing about it. Breathing deeply, nostrils flaring to gather olfactory information, he smiled as he handed a small card to Cervelli.

"Because I am certain you wouldn't remember it, I've taken the liberty of writing the security code on this notecard so you won't have to wait at the gate for the intercom. It's been quite spotty. I wouldn't want to leave you waiting with no means to exit the compound."

Mr. Cervelli nodded, "Thank you, that is extremely kind. I'll be certain to destroy it the moment I return home."

"I would appreciate that. Though I will reprogram the code when the alarm system is repaired on Monday, that number in the wrong hands over the weekend could spell significant trouble for my family these next several days. I rely on your discretion."

"Yes, I will attend to it personally. Again, thank you for a lovely meal."

Reaching an arm out to Clarice, she rushed to Hannibal's side, tucking her head just beneath his chin. Enfolding his wife within his arms, Hannibal pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. Nodding to Cervelli, he responded, "Not at all…it was my pleasure."

* * *

Hannibal and Clarice rushed into their home curious to hear how much of the information he suggested had been disseminated to Magdalena.

"All of it. It was no trouble at all…she was asking before I even had to offer."

"She believes the security system is entirely inactive?"

"That and the video cameras and the intercom system, as well. I told her I was quite frightened. I went as far as to suggest it likely that a single invader attempting to make a name could successfully infiltrate the compound. I presented it as if the thought would be irresistible if someone of suspicious intent knew the home was essentially unprotected. Her phone was recording video the entire time. I am absolutely certain she captured every word of it."

"Were you clear we have no guard dogs or additional security on the premises?"

"Yes, I told her you were looking at animals but had not, as of yet, decided. If you don't mind, I also told her you were undergoing treatments of some kind. That your strength was somewhat compromised."

Hannibal pulled Clarice close, flirting, "It is true, I was hoping for a treatment tonight. What do you think, Clarice? Are you up for one as well?"

Smiling, Clarice wrapped her right arm around Hannibal's body, smoothing her left hand over his stomach and chest, teasing in return, "I think I might be able to come up with something that'll compromise your strength."

Turning to Lady Murasaki, Hannibal commended, "A brilliant performance, dear aunt. One as arrogant as Chavez would not be able to resist such a temptation. He will pay us a visit. Probably alone, as he will not want to share the glory, nor chance that someone will tip me off to the plan. Not tonight, I think, but in all likelihood, tomorrow. We still have much to plan."

Unconvinced and more than a little worried at the prospect of tempting a drug lord into their home, Clarice pressed her face to Hannibal's chest, questioning, "You sure he'll come alone, H? The baby."

Wanting to comfort, Hannibal's lush baritone soothed, "Come, dear family. We will discuss this further in the family room."

* * *

Walking with Clarice and his aunt, Hannibal refused to release his wife. Instead, they remained in-step, their hips finding a similar rhythm. Upon reaching the room, Hannibal activated the intercom to make certain the baby was sleeping. He then guided Lady Murasaki to her normal chair, with the loveseat serving he and Clarice. When they'd settled, Hannibal wrapped his arms around his wife, again placing her head on his chest, knowing the beat of his heart and the rumble of his voice from within, would soothe.

"I understand your concern, Clarice. I chose this plan because it severely limits the amount of people needed for success. If I were to face him on his own terms, I would not be able to control the environment."

"What makes you think he won't show up with eight or ten men, guns blazing?"

"Let us look at the facts. Would Chavez, ignorant though he is, chance to bring a large contingency into a situation where stealth is his most effective weapon? He knows the layout of the home by now. It is expansive and would be difficult to cover distance quickly. A large group would complicate the situation."

"Maybe…"

"Definitely. Keep in mind thanks to the quick thinking of our dear aunt this overconfident man believes my health to be compromised. No, I am certain he will come alone, possibly with a driver but that is likely to be Magdalena, as she is familiar with the property and is already aware of the plan."

"Why Alena? Why not some massive knuckle-dragger with a gun?"

"He would consider that her presence provides a believable cover story in the event they are discovered before they breach the home. They would simply claim she left an item in our home and was merely returning to retrieve it."

It seemed reasonable. Okay. One drug dealer on his own…together, they could handle the situation. Feeling much more secure, patting her hand on his chest, she quizzed, "Okay, fair enough. So, what's my part in this, H?"

_My lioness...you will not be pleased._

"You shall have no part in this, Clarice. You are with child. You will take our son the moment we have indication of their presence, and you will remain in the panic room with our son and my aunt until the situation is over. I cannot chance this man getting hold of either of you, or our son. My undying love for you all is the only weapon he can use against me. I will not put that weapon within reach."

Pushing on his chest to straighten, she glared at Hannibal, insisting, "Do you honestly think you can make me sit in a goddamned dungeon while you're running around playing cops and robbers?"

Without a blink, Hannibal responded with no indication of emotion whatsoever, "Why not? I did…_for years_."

Clarice placed her palms on Hannibal's shoulders and pushed his back against the seatback of the sofa. She was agitated, not so much at Hannibal so much as the situation, but he would take the brunt of her frustration. Stabbing her index finger at his pectoral muscle, she asserted, "Oh, don't you go throwing that in my face, Hannibal Lecter! You can invite me all you want, I'm not joining that pity party."

As neutral as he had ever been, Hannibal spoke, "Pity? Do you think that little of me, Clarice…that I might use my past to in some way hold sway over you? One would think, as your husband, a word from me would be enough."

Clarice considered the question. Had he ever sought pity? No. She doubted the word was even present in his vocabulary.

"No, H. I don't think that of you, not at all. It's just so goddamned frustrating!"

Remembering back to the series of dreams plaguing him these last weeks, Hannibal called forth the nightmare where his son had been torn apart and dragged away by wolves. The boy was heading toward Lady Murasaki. Clarice moved to intercept after spotting the pack of animals, ignoring Hannibal's plea to stay with the wagon. When she failed to listen, she and Devyni were slaughtered. His sleeping mind had been telling him that which he understood. Clarice would act rather than follow. She was as impulsive as she was unpredictable and for a man like Hannibal, every contingency planned, this was a dangerous combination.

"Yes, it is that. I can see the process will be difficult for you, but you must trust me in this, Clarice. If I tell you to stay, stay you must. Understood?"

"I understand, H, but I don't have to like."

"No. I am certain you will not."

Crushing his wife to his side, Hannibal began to plan. Chavez would be coming. Tonight. Tomorrow, he would be coming and blood would run.

His mouth watering, Hannibal could practically taste it.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's note: Special thanks to all those who added NMSL to their favorites listings. I'm always so humbled that people find a small place for the series in their hearts and take the time to reflect it on their profiles. It's really encouraging and much appreciated. To my regular reviewers- you've become such dear and close personal friends. Thank you for your time and all your effort on my behalf. You are truly appreciated! **

**SWEET DREAMS**

The moment the Cervelli family arrived home Mr. Cervelli spotted Chavez's pickup truck idling on the top of the ridge near the alpaca paddock. He shifted in his seat warning Alena, "You must ignore that devil and come to the house with your family, Magdalena. I don't approve of you chasing after that man in the middle of the night."

Alena assured without concern, "Don't worry, Papa, it's early yet. I won't be long."

"You'll tell him nothing of our evening, Alena." Mrs. Cervelli advised, "You may not be frightened of him, but he's a dangerous man."

"We just left the house of a fucking serial killer and you're calling Chavez a dangerous man? You don't think something's wrong with that?"

Alena's brother chimed in without thought or concern to her reaction, "Dr. Lecter has been helping us, Alena. You're just upset because we all want that idiot Chavez off our property except for you."

"You're the idiot."

"I'm going to tell Hannibal you're still calling me names the next time I see him."

Alena, assuming Hannibal would be dead in twenty-four hours, agreed, "You go ahead…tell him the next time you see him."

"I will…you'll see. He'll take my side, too."

The moment her father stopped the car, Alena jumped from the car and despite the protests of her father, dashed up the hill near the first alpaca paddock. Having texted the man the entire ride home, Chavez assured her he would be waiting. Alena was more than thrilled to see he was, for once, good to his word.

Running across the field, though he was standing still and gave no indication it would be welcomed, Alena jumped into his arms.

Though he caught her in mid-air, Chavez was less than friendly, warning, "Don't assume we're a couple yet, Alena. Get off me and get in the truck so we can go to my computer. I want to see the man's home on a much larger screen than a cell phone. You're such a goddamned liar, for all I know you and your pathetic family spent the whole night faking the entire thing."

Sliding from his body, she answered angrily, "I don't know why I'm even helping you. You treat me like human trash."

"You've been treated the way you deserve to be treated. If you don't like it, you can take your pathetic needs elsewhere. You've already seen men will line up to fuck you, but the moment they wick you from their cock and close their fly, they all walk away."

The mention of her violation enraged Alena. If he wanted to throw that in her face, she would demand revenge. Glaring at Chaves, she sneered, "He's going to kill you, do you know that? This is the only thing that may save you and it's in my hands. Your life is in my hands."

Alena circled Chavez, waving her cell phone in the air, taunting, "I may keep this and let nature take its course. Or maybe I'll just crush this phone beneath my heel and wait for the lion to kill the lamb."

"What makes you think I'm such an easy target?"

"I've met the man. I know him. He is brilliant on a level you can't even imagine, much less approach. You're no more than an amoeba to him."

"Maybe, but I'm not the ass leaving my home open for the world to see." Snatching her by the wrist, Chavez tugged Alena toward him causing her body to slam against his chest. The vice-like fingers of his left hand gripped her jaw digging into her flesh. He leaned close, his nose no more than an inch from hers, his hot breath stinging her eyes as he warned, "I'll kill you and pry that phone from your cold, dead hand, whore. If you choose to tempt fate by mocking me,_ this_ face is the last thing you'll see."

Unafraid, Alena stood on the tips of her toes, literally pressing her nose against his, challenging, "After what you did to me, what you let those men do to me, I don't care if you kill me, but just so you know, my phone is password protected. By the time you or the barely-trained monkeys you work with figure it out, it'll be too late."

"He's not untouchable, even in his own home."

"In two days…he's untouchable. Lecter's alarm will be repaired Monday. If you don't get him by tomorrow night, you'll never break into that home. It's a goddamned fortress. The wall around the compound is fourteen feet high and there are cameras and motion sensors everywhere. There's no way in the world you can get to him there if you don't do it while the alarms are inactive, but you don't need me, I guess. You think you scare me? Fuck you!"

Realizing his threats weren't working, that he'd already taken everything from her, aside from her life, there was to take, Chavez regrouped. Moving in close, he placed an index finger on her nose, tracing down the tip to her lips. Turning his hand, he captured her chin, and kissed her tenderly. If she wouldn't respond to his anger, perhaps she would respond to his lust. He couldn't manage love. When he was near Alena he was out of control, such was the fury she fueled within the man. He despised this woman for the weakness she brought out in him. The drugs would be shipped in two weeks and he would take his leave of her. Until then, he would use her for all she was worth.

His tone softened, "Show me the videos and maybe, if there's something I can use, you'll share my bed tonight."

Shoving her palms hard on his chest, Alena pushed Chavez away. Tucking her phone in her front left hip pocket, she calmly informed, "As if I would hop into your bed after what you let those men do to me. You rejected me. If you want me now, you have to defend my honor. Every one of the men who touched me must die. If not, you can sit alone in the dark and tug on your pathetic excuse for manhood, because I won't be touching you."

"Of the twenty men I offered you to, only seven of them would have you. That's almost a third of my men."

"Good, you can count. Seven men die tonight and you're the one who kills them or I crush this phone and your life is forfeit."

"I need those men."

"To do what? You've packaged everything. You don't need twenty men to load the trucks to bring your shipment to the docks. Think of it this way, if you reduce your workforce by one-third, you will increase your profit by the same measure."

Believing he might be able to stall, Chavez quickly asserted, "After the situation with Lecter is resolved, I'll kill them all if you wish, but not before."

"Fine. I smash the phone on the ground and call the police. My father fears you. I don't. I've seen you with nothing on but a smile. You're not frightening. You're pathetic."

Reaching back as if to slap her face, Chavez paused.

_She might drop the phone. I need that phone; I need her… for now. _

He couldn't get to Lecter if he had no advantage. If he was to have even the slightest edge, he needed to see the videos. Swallowing his anger, literally choking on his pride, made an offer he hoped might change her mind. Puffing his chest as if it would be nothing to kill the men on whom he depended, he qualified, "If you want them dead, you can come with me to the facility and watch them die."

"Hah! You think that discourages me? I want them to see me smile as they die. It's really very simple. If you want the video, you and I will go to the back of the warehouse and you'll kill every last one of the bastards who raped me. Then and only then will I'll show you the layout of Lecter's house."

Striding to the barn he'd been using as a manufacturing facility to package his product for shipment, Chavez swung open the door and pointed to seven men.

"Line up here," was all he bothered to say. The men lined up without a moment's hesitation. Reaching behind him, Chavez pulled out a mac 10, pointed it at the men and sprayed them with the rounds charging from the weapon. Each man dropped to the ground taking several rounds to the head and chest. Turning to the rest of the men, Chavez stated calmly, "They touched Alena, so they had to die. Take them out and bury them."

* * *

The remainder of the night passed slowly for Hannibal. Judging by the glazed expression on her face as his wife watched television, he suspected the same of Clarice. Not attending to such, Hannibal's brilliant mind entertained him with the infinite possibilities of interpenetrating dimensions.

He'd begun to consider the concept of the multiverse and thought it possible there might be another Hannibal and Clarice existing in an alternate time and space. Perhaps they, unlike he and his more than desirable wife, were making love. Looking to his aunt, Hannibal hoped she would choose sleep soon, as his patience was thinning. He wanted to ravish his wife, but didn't want to be so crass as to announce the fact.

Lady Murasaki was tending to a needlepoint project on which she'd recently fixated. A Lecter coat of arms for the baby's room, she was thrilled to have Hannibal's approval. From his periphery, he watched as the older woman set the project on her lap and began rubbing her eyes.

Hannibal pounced.

"You appear fatigued, dear aunt. Perhaps we should all retire for the evening?"

Blinking awake from her television-fueled coma, Clarice rejoined, "I'm exhausted, H…that sounds like a great idea."

Nodding, Lady Murasaki agreed, "Yes, I'm fairly tired myself. If you will excuse me, I should like to turn in for the evening."

Hannibal stood and crossing the room, offered, "Would you like me to escort you to your suite?"

The older woman placed a hand on his shoulder to steady her body as she bowed to retrieve her project. Hannibal steadied her, waiting patiently for her to collect the items with which she'd been working. When she was certain she'd gathered all the supplies, she patted his chest, commenting warmly, "No, thank you, Hannibal. Really, you're too kind. I'll be fine."

"If you're certain." Hannibal set one hand on her upper arm, leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on each of his aunt's cheeks, continuing, "Sleep well."

"Thank you. Good night Hannibal." She leaned slightly to the right of Hannibal in order to address Clarice. "Have a good night's sleep, Clarice."

"You too. We'll do something fun with the baby, tomorrow. Maybe go out for the day."

"I'd love that."

Brushing her hand down the length of Hannibal's arm, she tucked her needlepoint under her own arm and quietly left the room.

Waiting a moment, Hannibal paused, his head tilted slightly to one side as he listened. When he was certain his aunt had entered her suite, he extended his arm, offering a hand to his wife.

"Would you care to join me, Clarice? We could have some _fun_?"

Taking his hand, Clarice smiled, tempting, "_Fun_, H? I thought you were tired."

"Not in the least and neither are you."

"How do you know that, H?"

Gently tugging her hand to help her stand, Hannibal explained, "If you were fatigued, I would sense the stress. You are anything but fatigued."

Clarice laughed as she stood, asking, "Am I that transparent, H?"

"Only to me, my Love, but I suspect I am equally transparent to you."

Clarice walked beside her husband, her right hand tucked into his right back pocket enjoying the feel of his muscles shifting beneath his slacks. Leaning forward for a look, she noted the emerging tightness pulling across the front of his trousers, as well, pointing out, "Well…when it comes to certain things you're really predictable."

Wrapping his left arm around his wife's body, Hannibal tucked his left hand in the left back pocket of her jeans, the pair now joined as they headed for their suite.

"And now?" he asked.

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, neither one of us will be getting much sleep tonight."

"I'll gladly trade a few hours of rest for the comfort of your body, my Love."

"Best offer I've had in a while!"

"_A while_, Clarice?"

"Okay, best offer I've had since last night, but who's counting?"

Walking up the stairs in a tight embrace, hips firmly joined, their bodies swayed in step. The moment they reached their level, Hannibal turned, reached around his wife and swept Clarice up into his arms.

"I hope you don't mind if I carry you, my Love. You'll need your strength as I intend to work tirelessly to weaken your knees."

Curling against his body, she didn't respond. Thinking back to the moment he lifted her from the boar pen, the sense memory took her breath away. She nestled her face, her nose rubbing against he search as she breathed the combination of his own personal scent and the bergamot aroma forming the base of his cologne.

Her body language much more vulnerable than was her habit, Hannibal instantly noticed the change.

"My Love?"

She hummed a quiet response leading him to question further, "Your mood has shifted. Tell me what you're thinking."

Smoothing her palm across the breadth of her husband's chest, she allowed it to come to rest over his heart surprised he was making no effort to check the elevation of his heart rate. The strong thumping pulsed at her palm, distracting her slightly. Sensitive to the feel of his body holding hers, she murmured, "I…I was thinking about the pen…the boars."

Dipping her legs slightly to allow him access to the door handle, he opened the door to their bedroom, continuing, "What of it?"

The emotion of the moment overcoming, her eyes welled as she whispered, "You saved me."

"Moments after you saved me, Clarice. You have been saving me every moment of since. I believe that makes us even."

"We'll never be even…you risked more than your life to safe me. You risked your freedom."

"Just that? Not a risk. I wanted to be certain we would see each other once more. Had I been captured, agent or not, would you not have visited?"

"Yes, I'd visit, but what the hell difference would that make? You'd be back in that prison."

"True, that would not have been ideal but without the presence of Dr. Chilton, it would be tolerable. I was concerned you would not respond to my advance, Clarice. If I had no other options to see you, if being taken into custody was my only opportunity, I would trade my freedom, gladly."

Setting his wife on the bed, Hannibal kneeled at her feet. Placing his palms on each of her knees, he opened her legs to him. Still kneeling, he moved between her legs, pulling her body close, resting his head on her breasts.

"I would give up any and all for but a moment in your presence, Clarice."

"Hannibal…" she spoke quietly as she raked his hair away from his face.

Though the use of his given name brought concern, he removed the worry from his tone, asking simply, "Clarice? Hannibal…not H?"

Cradling his face gently within cupped hands, she placed tender kisses on his cheeks, as she spoke, "I'm not angry, I…I wanted to say your name. Hannibal Lecter. My Hannibal…my H." She kissed his lips, speaking against his mouth, though their lips were joined, "I didn't think I could ever love you. I was afraid I wouldn't have the strength to face the world with you and terrified I'd have to face my life without you. Now, I know I could never love any man as much as I love you. You're everything to me, H…everything."

"You are my life, as well. Know that I love you with all that I am."

"I know, H…me too."

Hannibal wrapped his arms around Clarice's waist, pulling her close. Slipping his hands under her thighs, he gripped her bottom, slid her toward him, crushing her body to his. Without another word, Hannibal nuzzled his nose under her loose sweater slipping his head beneath the garment. Inhaling his wife's scent, he breathed slowly, relishing the olfactory experience. Growling low, his passion building. He didn't expect the response. His cheek pressed against Clarice's swollen belly, suddenly, Hannibal flinched.

"H? Are you okay?"

"Yes, Clarice."

Realizing he was making no effort to move, thinking she knew but wanting to see what was happening, Clarice crossed her arms, pulling her sweater over her head. Looking down at her husband she continually raked her fingers through his hair, speaking softly, "H? Talk to me, H."

Escalating the sensory experience, Hannibal rubbed his cheek along the fullness of her belly, whispering, "A moment, Clarice…_please_."

Impatient, she pressed, "You felt it, didn't you?"

Hannibal hummed his assent, but didn't move, instead placing very tender kisses on the full roundness of the side of her belly.

"It's the first time the baby kicked and you felt it with me."

"She is very gentle, Clarice. Not as active as Devyni in the womb."

"Stop saying, she, H…what if it's another boy? I don't want you to be disappointed."

Kissing Clarice's belly as if the child within could feel his love, Hannibal pledged, "I assure you, I will not be disappointed, Clarice."

Knowing he was incapable of lying to her, well, not incapable of as much as not feeling it necessary to spare her feelings on the subject, she decided it wasn't necessary to pursue the topic further. He didn't agree the child might not be female. He was certain. He would not deviate from that position, he simply promised he would not be disappointed.

Knowing he wouldn't deviate from that position, Clarice conceded, "Okay, if you say so, H."

"I do say so, Clarice." Hannibal, still on his knees in front of his wife as if praying at an altar, began smoothing his hands over his wife's belly, speaking quietly to the child within, "Mother is worried I will be disappointed when I see you, little one. Please tell her not to worry herself so. I adore you now and will love and defend you with my last breath."

Hannibal climbed onto the bed, pulling his wife close. Neither spoke. What had begun with the promise of unbridled passion became Hannibal's promise to protect his child. Clarice, safe within his arms closed her eyes. She thought to blink back the tears, but he would be aware of them regardless. She allowed them to flow.

Hannibal, though he was fully aware, made no mention. He simply held his wife, placing tender kisses on his wife's neck and shoulders until sleep finally found her. Soon, too, Hannibal would fall asleep. Chavez would as well. Hannibal knew, for one of them, it would be the last time.

_Cry tonight if you must, my Love. Tomorrow it will end. _

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	41. Chapter 41

**Author's note: Sorry, dear readers, the chapter had to be divided. It's 5,000 words already, so in order to get it to you in a more timely manner, I've divided it in two sections. Not to worry, I'll post the second section on Friday (at the latest).**

**THE FALL OF CHAVEZ: PART ONE**

Hannibal woke well before dawn but left his wife asleep in their bed, knowing she would need the rest. Unless Chavez moved much earlier in the evening than would be safe, which he most assuredly would not, they would have a long night ahead. Better she rest now. Knowing Clarice as he did, it would be almost impossible for her to get any sleep later tonight.

Knowing when he purchased the home that an invader or law enforcement agency attempting to capture him would eventually attempt to cut the power, Hannibal had neither the panic room, nor the backup cameras wired to the electrical supply of the home.

A large generator was installed several hundred yards from the home deep into the wooded section of the property. Housed in a small outbuilding, the generator was hidden from view with all cables to the home running underground. Having taken every precaution, he used more than ten contractors to assemble the project in specific sections, none knowing the full usage or the location of the previous contractor's work.

The backup system had been installed just before Clarice and he were married. Being a wanted man at the time and not very trusting, for good reason, Hannibal didn't want any specific security company to know every camera, monitor or energy source for every part of his system. As a means of checks and balances, he hired several companies to do duplicate work. This section of cameras ran independent from the main monitoring system and had been tied to the same generator that powered the panic room. From the panic room they could watch for Chavez's approach on the monitors. Today, Hannibal was making certain each of the tiny cameras were not only operational but still well camouflaged.

This process would take the better part of the day.

Working happily in the kitchen, he prepared a brunch leaving the constituents to warm in chafing trays. He then gathered his son, already fed, and left a note for his wife.

_Dear Clarice, _

_I hope you aren't too upset with me for leaving our bed without so much as a good morning kiss. You are lovely when you sleep. Know that it was as difficult for me to leave, as I am certain it was for you to wake alone, but there are preparations to be made. I will be securing the exterior of the property, a necessary task before the arrival of our guest or perhaps guests, tonight. _

_Our son is with me, as I didn't want to wake you. He and I enjoyed a hearty breakfast so please mind that you do the same. Do not concern yourself with young Hannibal as I have the necessary supplies in hand. He and I will revel in a day spent together out of doors. _

_All my love, _

_**H**_

As his son toddled along with no more than a foot separating them, Hannibal began checking the hidden cameras. They had been very specifically placed around the perimeter of the home all the way to the main gate. Thoroughly pleased to be with his father, the boy emitted a series of Dadadadada's as the pair moved along a path running parallel to the driveway.

An hour passed, still, Hannibal went from location to location, assessing the status of each section. Looking down, he noticed his son's eyebrows knitted tightly. Smiling at the very serious nature of his son's expression, Hannibal posed, "Are you curious as to what Daddy is doing, my son?"

"Yes. What, Daddy?"

"Daddy is checking some very tiny cameras." Lifting his son, Hannibal indicated a very tiny light. "Can you see it? Located within the boughs of the tree?"

"I see it, Daddy."

Hannibal took a small aerosal can, spraying paint over the light, concealing it.

"Now the light cannot be seen. Even Mommy doesn't even know about these. Did you think Daddy would have someone come to our home and not be prepared?" Hannibal shook his head, "No. Daddy would never take that sort of chance. We will be ready for our guest, yes?"

The boy nodded, "Yes, Daddy."

"There's my brilliant boy. We have many more cameras to check, are you getting hungry?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Taking the backpack from his shoulder, Hannibal stopped for a moment as he addressed his son, "Since you were such a good boy helping me to pack your bag this morning, would you like to choose your snack?"

Devyni reached up with both hands. Jumping up and down and clutching at the air, he requested gleefully, "Apples!"

"Apples are a wonderful choice, but I will not give them to you, yet. Do you know why?"

"Why, Daddy?"

"It is because you are a young gentleman that you must remember to always mind your manners."

"But, Daddy, I want apples."

"If you want the apples, you must think very hard. How does a young gentleman ask for what he wants?"

His brow furrowed, deep in thought, the boy searched his mind for the answer to his father's question. The moment he had come to it, he beamed, proclaiming proudly, "May I have my apples, _please_, Daddy!"

"Yes, Hannibal you may have your apples. I'm quite proud of your manners, very fitting of fine young gentleman. One day, you will be well deserving of the title, Count, young Master Lecter."

Reaching into the backpack filled with baby items, Hannibal retrieved a sealed plastic cup. Unscrewing the lid, he handed the boy the small container filled with tiny pieces of diced apple. Clutching the cup to his chest, the toddler grasped a small section of apple and awkwardly palmed it into his mouth. Hannibal reached into the pack once more, retrieving a much smaller rectangular item. Hannibal tucked it into the pocket of the boy's bib overalls.

"Will you carry this for Daddy? The bag is very heavy and I know you are strong enough to help."

Much more concerned with his apples than a small object in his pocket, the boy nodded.

"You cannot answer?" Hannibal questioned.

Still quiet, the boy shook his head and pointed to his mouth, still chewing.

"Ah, your mouth is full. Young gentlemen do not speak with food in their mouths, yes?"

Smiling widely, Devyni nodded, chewing vigorously. The moment he swallowed his food, he responded, "I can carry it, Daddy. I'm strong."

Activating the tiny object, Hannibal secured it within the pocket, adding,

"Yes, I know you are. You are a Lecter. You're very strong."

His father's stride naturally much longer, the boy bounded along, happily keeping up. Ever vigilant Hannibal kept a watchful hand in contact with his son at all times, resting his wide palm on the back of his son's head as they walked to the next camera.

* * *

Hours passing as he worked alongside his son in the warm afternoon sun. Hannibal was pleased to find the system well hidden and in perfect working order, though he made no mention of it to his son. The afternoon was spent with Hannibal telling his son a very long and extremely detailed version of an Italian folktale, Biancabella and the Snake. Occasionally, young Hannibal would ask a question, but for the most part, the dialogue was fairly steady. When the work was complete, Hannibal and his son returned to their home. Having spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon playing in the fresh air, Devyni was exhausted.

Having run around most of the day the young boy's eyes were becoming heavy, his steps no longer as surefooted as they had been earlier in the day. Reaching into the boy's pocket, Hannibal removed and deactivated the object he'd placed, slipping it into the pocket of his slacks.

"Look at my brave boy walking without complaint. Come, my son, let Daddy carry you."

Recognizing his son's fatigue though the youngster didn't complain, Hannibal carried his namesake the last few hundred yards. Within moments, the boy was asleep in his father's arms, his face nestled against Hannibal's neck, warm puffs of breath heating his father's skin. Their chests touching, the boy's heart beat against his own, causing Hannibal's heart to soar.

Stroking the boy's hair he spoke aloud, though he knew his son was sound asleep, "You are wonderful, my son. Your sister will be so proud to have you as her big brother. You will protect her, as I protect you. After this night, all will be well."

* * *

Clarice found the note a full two hours after Hannibal and his son had already left for their home. Initially upset, she overcame her worry while eating breakfast with Lady Murasaki, distracted as the women gleefully exchanged stories about Hannibal. With both women sharing love for the man they had formed an immediate bond. Lady Murasaki, decades older than Clarice, had become a sort of surrogate mother, a necessary female presence and sounding board for the much younger woman. Over the months the two had become very close.

Not such with Hannibal, not since his young adulthood anyway, Lady Murasaki was at ease with Clarice. It was nothing for the pair to exchange personal information, with the curious aunt probing, "Did you fall in love with him right away, or did the feelings evolve slowly over time?"

Clarice laughed, "Considering the fact that I was just out of college and he was a convicted killer with twenty years on me, I wouldn't say I fell in love with him immediately. I guess I'd say I was instantly captivated. He's so charming and so elegant. Not like any of the men I'd ever dealt with before. From that very first meeting I knew I was in trouble, though. He just…he just got to me, you know?"

Nodding in agreement, Lady Murasaki explained, "He's very much like rest of the men in the family. They're all very elegant and proper, but vicious if the family was threatened. All the men had the same wanderlust. Hunters, real alpha males, and Hannibal grew up to be exactly the same."

"_Grew _to be the same? Had he been different?"

Lady Murasaki's eyes glazed slightly, remembering a happy time, a time when she herself was a young bride in love, Hannibal no more than a boy.

"Yes, he was very different. The war changed him. Avenging his sister hardened him. I'm certain my rejection left scars as well. Soon after, he left to attend medical school in America. I'd mourned him ever since, but no longer…now we are a family again and I have you to thank for it."

Ignoring the reference to Lady Murasaki's rejection of Hannibal, Clarice continued,

"It's hard to think of H as a boy. How is he different?"

"When he was a boy he was a quiet, thoughtful child, very much like your son. People who didn't know him might have thought him timid, but it wasn't that. He just didn't feel the need to prove himself. He never sought praise or attention, like most children. He was very…internal."

"Was he well liked by other children?"

"No. Because of his eyes other children were frightened by him…he was bullied. He saw only his sister. He looked at other children as more of an irritation. Their intellects were so beneath his, he found them tiresome, I think. He would often go off alone for hours at a time."

"Not much has changed. H will never be a people person and he still takes off here and there when he feels too closed in. When he went off alone, what was he doing?"

"He would take long walks exploring the castle and the grounds. He'd inevitably return with dozens of questions about the things he'd seen, brilliant, truly."

"H owns the castle again but I've never been."

"The Lecter Castle is magnificent, but the grounds of the estate are absolutely breathtaking. I'm not surprised he took young Hannibal along for the day. It was something he would do quite often. Most days he wouldn't return before sunset. That may be his plan today."

"It surprises me that H is taking this day so lightly. Why would he spend it with Devyni? It doesn't seem to have any purpose. You'd think he'd find that would be impractical today."

"Perhaps he wishes to spend the day with his son because he's worried he may not survive."

Clarice laughed off the thought, affirming, "No. Hannibal doesn't really consider this man a threat. Whatever H has going on, fear of dying isn't a consideration. This is going to be like shooting fish in a barrel. It's actually hardly a contest at all. It's probably been much harder on Devyni, than Hannibal, today. The little guy probably enjoyed hanging out with his daddy and eating lunch out of doors, but missing his nap will be an entirely different thing."

No sooner did the words escape her mouth than Hannibal entered the room quietly, his sleeping son curled against his body.

Seeing the baby was sleeping, Clarice spoke quietly, "I can't believe you kept him out all day, H. What the hell were you thinking?"

Whispering in return, Hannibal rebutted, "I fail to see the source of your irritation, Clarice. The boy and I had a wonderful day together."

Her displeasure obvious though it had no affect on her husband, still showing a degree of irritation, she asserted, "He _missed_ his _nap_."

In no way emotive, Hannibal returned, "No, Clarice, he is napping _now_."

"Today is not the day to screw with his schedule, H."

His eyes fixed intently on his wife, Hannibal spoke plainly, "_Trust_, my Love."

Again, that look, the one she'd learned meant not to challenge. It wasn't assertive in a domineering way; it was more that he knew what he was doing. That he needed, not her submission to his will, but her acceptance of that need. She immediately acquiesced. "Okay, just put him in his crib. Hopefully this doesn't throw him off totally."

"As you wish."

Instead of bringing his son up the stairs to the nursery, Hannibal walked toward the panic room.

"Where are you going, H?"

"For the rest of the evening, I should like the child, the family, to be protected. If Chavez moves, it would be prudent to be together. We can dine in the main home, but the child's bedroom is too far away. It would be unwise to separate our family to that degree."

"You're assuming he's going to make a move soon?"

His body swaying gently, rocking his son, Hannibal replied, "The moment the sun goes down he will begin his preparations and we must be ready in advance of his action. I'll not budge on this point, Clarice. We will remain together. If anyone so much as needs the bathroom, the facilities in the protected wing will serve."

Lady Murasaki watched the interaction quietly having nothing of any consequence to add to the topic. To her, the situation was quite simple, whatever Hannibal wished she would do.

Understanding Hannibal's direction, Clarice followed him into the panic room, requesting, "H…how will we hear the baby?"

Setting the baby in the crib, Hannibal put his index finger to his lips requesting his wife's silence. Moving to a large armoire, he opened the doors to reveal a series of monitors. Spinning dials, Hannibal demonstrated the system. There were fiber optic cameras mounted within crystal finials of every light fixture in the home. With a very small joystick, each tiny camera could be rotated. A second panel operated the cameras Hannibal had spent the day securing. They too, could be operated remotely.

Following her husband around the room as he tucked in their child and secured the crib, she then watched him flipped a switch on a small audio/video monitor and lifted its portable mate from the base. Reaching into his pocket, Hannibal removed the small object Devyni carried for the day. Activating the small machine, he placed it near the base, handing the small receiver to Clarice, he flipped the switch and suddenly Hannibal's voice could be heard telling the fairy tale to his son.

"You brilliant son of a …"

Interrupting, Hannibal kissed his wife, speaking against her lips, "Mind the reference to my mother, Clarice."

Carrying the receiver and the tape recorder in his right hand, Hannibal placed the palm of his left hand on the small of his wife's back, his thumb stroking the curve of her lower back.

Leaning into his body as they exited, Clarice commended, "You think of everything don't you, H?"

"One tries, my Love…one tries."

* * *

The sun had dipped beneath the horizon, Chavez's cue it was time to put his plan into motion. It was quite simple. Wait until the Lecter family was sleeping, then attack and if he could separate the parents so much the better.

"Remind me, Alena. The length of that hallway, if I were to hide in the child's room and lay in wait for one of the parents, how much time would I have if the other parent was alerted. Could I escape the room if someone called out?"

"If you left at that moment, yes. The hallway is very long, it would take several seconds, even at a full run, for someone to reach the nursery from the master suite."

"The nanny's bedroom?"

"She doesn't respond to the baby at night. She defers to Hannibal. Plus, she's really afraid. You won't have to worry about her. Clarice is your only worry."

"When the child wakes…"

"When the child wakes, Hannibal will come."

Hannibal will come.

Certain as he drove the edges of the Lecter property, Chavez began to outline his thoughts.

_I'll crush the man. Cripple him even. He will beg for death, but it won't come._

Alena driving, Chavez rifled through the bag he'd prepared. Though it was small, it had many weapons, all vicious and all silent. A gun would alert witnesses, a knife would not. He had several. Within the bag, a small blowtorch, several lengths of rope, gags, handcuffs and a small San La Muerta statue.

_This was your threat to me…you think yourself the harbinger of death. I'll stick my blade in your heart and stuff this in the hole. You will die tonight, Hannibal Lecter, but first, you suffer. I'll fuck your wife senseless, choke her with my manhood, then slit her worthless throat to watch my seed spill from the wound. As you scream in agony, I'll use the torch to melt away your eyes so the memory of me filling her throat is burned into you mind for eternity._

He'd taken Alena several times last night, but Clarice's face was the image he held in his mind. Each thrust within the woman, each stabbing motion directed at the cannibal's wife…no…his widow. He was prepared.

His voice confident, assertive even, Chavez explained, "You will enter the home with me, but you'll stay out of the way as my plans for the man are private. The music room would be best. You will only show yourself if I call for you. Understood?"

Believing, with her help, the man was invincible, Alena nodded. If Hannibal were to be killed by her now-once-again lover Chavez would be famous, feared, and she would be his woman. No longer just the daughter of the rancher or the sister of the retard, she would never be looked down on again.

"Yes, Papi…I understand. Whatever you say."

Whatever you say.

* * *

The family entered the protected area, but without Hannibal. He continued to move through the home, as there was an additional monitor to be placed. Needing to draw Chavez to his son's room Hannibal understood if the man heard the recording, he would, inevitably, follow the sounds to the source.

Concerned and not at all happy to remain in the panic room, Clarice watched the monitors closely. Almost as closely as she watched her cell phone. If Alena wanted an ally and not an enemy in Clarice, she would call or text with a warning. If no warning came, Clarice wouldn't interfere with whatever Hannibal chose to do. In fact she'd not only allow, she'd encourage his aggression.

Catching the sound of an approaching vehicle, with what he believed would be moments to spare Hannibal ducked into the panic room.

"All is well, dear family?" he questioned with a smile.

Both women nodded, joining, "All's well."

Turning to his wife, Hannibal pursued, "Have you heard from young Miss Cervelli?"

Not wanting Hannibal to know she'd interfered, Clarice neither confirmed nor denied. "I haven't heard from anyone, why?"

"Because, my dear wife, it was obvious by the panic in Alena's face seconds after you escorted her from the home, she was terrified. The instant spike in her adrenalin meaning she was frightened, guarded, and had not been seconds prior to her interaction with you."

"So? Maybe she just doesn't like me."

"Or maybe there was a threat either directed or implied when you took her cell phone. Programmed you number in it, did you?"

"What would make you think that, H?"

Because her cell phone, which had been in her hip pocket, was suddenly clutched in her right hand. Her trembling right hand, Clarice."

_Okay, I'm not going to fool him. What else is new!_

"So what if I told her to warn us? You're not upset about it, are you?"

"No, of course not. You are a warrior, Clarice. I understand your need to defend your family. I'd expect no less."

Lady Murasaki, watching the monitors closely, turned toward the couple, now hugging, warning, "There's a truck without headlights pulling in behind the barn."

Gripping her husband, Clarice hugged him tightly. Separating slightly, he kissed her tenderly, his lips pliant and loving. The moment they kiss ended, Clarice clutched at his shoulders once more, pulling him close.

Understanding her feelings, Hannibal unwrapped her embrace, smoothing his hands up and down her arms, he whispered, "It isn't a kiss goodbye, Clarice. This dullard is decisively overmatched. My only concern is whether or not he comes alone."

Switching the views by rotating the hidden cameras, Lady Murasaki improved her angle on the vehicle, stressing, "There is a man exiting the passenger side…the woman is now exiting the driver's side. They are both coming, Hannibal. There will be two of them to deal with."

Clarice fumed, "That bitch had the balls to come to my house…she's mine, H."

Gripping his wife's arms at her elbows, Hannibal squeezed tightly, seeking her eyes. His voice was calm, but clearly his tone reflected the serious nature of his position, asserting, "This is not negotiable, Clarice. My children must be safe. While my aunt can look after Devyni, my daughter relies on your restraint for protection. Please, my Love, I cannot stress enough how your impulsive nature has haunted me."

"Haunted you, H?"

Releasing his wife, Hannibal stepped back.

"I haven't the time to deal with this, now. I'll need to move if I'm to reach our son's room before they breach the home. The side door should be the identified entrance. Both deadbolts on the door were left intentionally unlocked therefore Chavez needs only to pick the lock on the door handle. If his skills are modest, it will take but a moment's work. Forgive me. I must attend to your safety."

His nostrils flaring, his ears pricked and ready, Hannibal dashed toward the door, exited the secured rooms, and tore through the house without looking back.

* * *

It took Chavez less than thirty seconds to open the lock on the side door. Waving Alena ahead, the man signaled it was safe for her to advance.

"When we are inside, you'll lead me to the foyer. I'll proceed up to the Lecter's floor. You will remain in the music room. I'll come for you when it's over, understand?"

"Yes, I'll wait until you come get me."

The pair moved through the ground floor with speed and stealth, Alena directing Chavez to the stairs leading to the bedroom level. Next, proceeding to the music room, she made herself comfortable on the couch just behind Hannibal's desk.

_It will all be over soon. Hannibal and his family will be dead, and Chavez will be the most feared man in the world, killing the man no one was able to kill. Formidable, that's what they'll call him. No one will stand in his way and I will stand beside him._

Unconcerned, Chavez took to the stairs quickly and quietly. Hearing the soft footfalls and catching the scent of the man approaching, Hannibal activated the portable intercom. His voice emanating from the speaker placed in his son's bed, Hannibal found a very comfortable hiding place behind the large overstuffed reading chair, and waited.

It didn't take long for Chavez to find the room. As the man approached, Hannibal turned off the intercom, readying.

_Come, if you dare._

The door opened quietly, Chavez slipping into the room very low to the ground. Surprised not to find Hannibal, Chavez slowly approached the crib.

Seeing a small mound beneath the blankets, the lights low, Chavez couldn't identify the child. Standing to have a better look, the man reached into the crib.

The moment Chavez's hand lighted on the blankets, Hannibal stepped out from behind the chair, hissing, "My son is not there. Did you think I would leave that which I hold above my own life, as unprotected as you find yourself?"

His heart slamming against his sternum, Chavez did his best to appear unafraid.

"You are equally unprotected, Hannibal."

"_Hannibal?_ Have we been formally introduced?"

Pulling a large hunting knife from the bag in his hand Chavez wagged the blade, coaxing, "Come forward, I'll be happy to introduce this to your ribs."

Feigning fear, Hannibal clutched his chest and dropped to a knee.

Believing the act, Chavez pounded the fist holding the knife against his chest, bellowing, "That's right, old man. Bow to your God!"

_Old man? This will be even more painful for you than was my original intent._

Rolling the edge of the rug with his fingers, Hannibal gripped the floor covering, stood quickly, twisted his body and yanked with all his might. Slamming to the ground with a mighty thud, Chavez was knocked semi-conscious.

Stalking slowly toward the dizzied man, Hannibal loomed, voice raspy and raw, growling the words of Genghis Khan, "I am the punishment of God…if you had not committed great sins God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you!"

Balling his fingers into a fist, Hannibal pounded Chavez's face, stunning further, the now concussed man. Seeing the bag Hannibal looked into the thick canvas satchel, sorting through the objects within.

"Let us see what you had planned for me, Chavez. Perhaps I will visit some of your own evils upon you."

Pushing through the bag, Hannibal huffed, "Knives aside, you brought nothing more than a blowtorch, handcuffs, some rope and a few gags? You face me with such little preparation? Your efforts are uninspired and equally unimpressive, my friend. And gags? Why would you want to interrupt my screams? Are you too fainthearted, Chavez? I myself will find your agony utterly symphonic, so I'll have no need for the gags…not now, anyway."

Flipping the man onto his face, quickly gathering Chavez's hands, Hannibal pinned the wrists together with his left hand as he reached into the bag and lashed the wrists, knotting the rope taut. Reaching for another rope, he tied the tied the ankles together, the man fully bound. Leaving a length of rope from the knot at Chavez's wrist to serve as a leash, Hannibal wrapped the excess around his right forearm and tugged hard, dragging the man from his son's room.

Speaking as he dragged the drug dealer through his home, Hannibal outlined, "You've made this far too easy, Chavez, hardly worth the effort, really. Still, the advantage is I do not have to kill you here. I can take you away from my home and deal with you, elsewhere. My wife would prefer it, as it will cut down on the necessary cleanup. Not to mention, she would prefer her home not be the scene of a homicide. It will please me because I can take my time with you, though I'm certain you will enjoy my company far less than I will enjoy yours."

Now on the stairway, Hannibal lifted the man's wrist just high enough to keep his already battered skull from smashing on each stair. His intention was to drag Chavez from the home before returning to deal with Alena, but the moment Chavez's body hit the landing, the man screamed as if he was being skinned alive.

Seeing Alena come charging down the hall, Hannibal mused, "Ah, well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

* * *

As Clarice watched her son explore the room, Lady Murasaki had been following the action. Once Hannibal reached the main level, she could see he'd overcome Chavez.

"Clarice, the man is neutralized, but he appears to be screaming.

"What's H doing?"

"He's dragging Chavez toward the kitchen."

Clarice looked at the monitor. "Looks like he's intending to take him out the side door where they came in. I guess he doesn't want to kill him in the house."

"If he's got the man disabled, why can't he call the police?"

Clarice lifted an eyebrow. "Seriously? This man will never stop. H needs to kill him. He needs to make a statement or thugs like this will continue to line up to try and make their reputation by taking a shot at him. No…I'm with H on this. Chavez has to die."

Clarice looked up to see Alena running from the music room, obviously planning to attack Hannibal.

"That fucking bitch."

As Clarice opened the door, Lady Murasaki interrupted, attempted to intercede.

"Don't go out there, Clarice. Hannibal asked us to stay in the secured area."

"He's got Chavez trussed like a chicken. I think we're good."

The moment he heard the name Hannibal and saw the door open, Devyni bolted from the panic room, his voice joyful as he ran toward the kitchen, cheering, "Daddy! Daddy!"

_**Until the next chapter, my friends!**_

_**LH**_


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's note: Sorry for the delay in posting the chapter. The weather in Connecticut can be cruel, my friends. Thanks to Blizzard Nemo I had 38 inches of snowfall to deal with today, but I couldn't make you wait any longer. Please review and let me know what you thought of the chapter! This one was reall****y fun to write!**

**THE FALL OF CHAVEZ**

The moment Hannibal caught the scent of his son's approach, his heart thumped wildly, a surge of rising bile burned the back of his throat. Turning, he dragged Chavez behind the breakfast bar knowing he could never reach his son before Alena's arrival. Though he felt no guilt connected to his activities he didn't want the boy to see this. He was far too young to understand.

_What has happened, Clarice…why is our son alone? Where are you?_

His unspoken questioned answered; Hannibal detected her slow approach.

_My brilliant Clarice, slow and steady. Don't overreact._

Making certain Chavez would not speak and frighten Devyni, Hannibal stepped on the man's throat, forcing his heel into the flesh. A warning followed, "My son is entering the area and I do not wish to expose him to your presence. If you call out or in any way speak, I will crush your windpipe without hesitation. Do you understand me?"

Nodding, Chavez agreed. Alena would save him. He was sure of it. Within seconds, Alena burst into the room with Devyni closely following. Hannibal's son stood spaced directly between them. Hannibal's eyes were fixed on the woman, questioning, "You are here without invitation and have exposed my family to a man I consider a great threat. Might I ask why?"

"I thought it might be fun to play with your son."

Intending to terrify Hannibal, but not wanting to frighten the boy, Alena bent to a knee, extending a hand to the boy. Smiling widely, Alena offered, "Hello, little one."

"My Daddy calls me that."

"Yes, I remember from last night. Do you remember I was here with you? We had dinner together with your family and mine?"

"Yes. I remember."

She extended her hand, beckoning, "Come here. We can go out and play together."

Devyni looked to his father. Not wanting to frighten his son, Hannibal thought quickly, "Do you remember the apples? The lesson you learned?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Hannibal, Alena asked you to do something. Are you going to do it?"

He wanted to play with the girl, but she forgot to say please. Knowing his father wouldn't allow it because she hadn't asked correctly. Devyni stepped backward.

"No, Daddy."

"Very good. I'm proud of you. You have learned your lesson well."

Realizing she wouldn't be able to coax the boy, Alena moved to flank him, blocking Devyni from exiting the kitchen. Reaching behind, she withdrew a 9 mm handgun from her waistband. Holding her arm away from her body, she showed the weapon to Hannibal, shielding it from the boy.

"My friend is tired of playing your game, Doctor Lecter. Let him go."

Young Hannibal's eyes brightened. Toddling toward his father, he asked excitedly, "Who's playing a game, Daddy? Where is he? May I play, please?"

Hannibal held out his hand, halting his son. "No, Hannibal. It is not a children's game. Alena came to our home with a friend and the man is hiding behind the breakfast bar. I'm sorry they cannot play any longer. They will be leaving momentarily."

Nostrils flaring, Hannibal confirmed the presence of his wife. Hoping she would follow his lead, he quickly determined a course of action. From the concentration and direction of the scent, he assessed her location just behind the wall between the family room and the kitchen area. Hoping she would understand his purpose, Hannibal clearly outlined, "You may leave with your friend, though I am certain your transportation has been disabled."

Not believing him, Alena insisted, "Our transportation is fine."

"My wife went out more than an hour ago to tend to the horses. That is a task taking no more than fifteen minutes. She has yet to return. When you consider the fact that she is an ex-FBI agent, assuming she discovered your vehicle, which she most assuredly did, you will leave here on foot. Did you fill your gas tank?"

"Of course the tank is filled, do you think I'm an idiot?"

Winking, Hannibal replied with a devious smile, "I shall avoid the temptation to refer to that as a rhetorical question."

_Trust, Clarice…I shall protect the boy. Trust. Though every instinct is telling you to rescue your son, trust, my Love and follow my lead._

Knowing the only way to find out whether or not the truck was operable would be to start it, Alena edged closer to Devyni. It was time to leave. Though the phone lines had been cut, they had no way to interrupt cell phone service. They'd been there too long already. Though their efforts were for naught, it was time to leave.

"Where is your knife, Doctor? I know you always have it on you. If you don't take your weapon out and use it to release Chavez, I will use mine. I'll prune your family tree in front of your eyes. At this distance I can't miss. The results would be very messy."

Hannibal's left hand shot out, ejecting the Harpy from his sleeve. Thumbing the blade open, he offered, "Though I will not allow Chavez the courtesy, if you leave now without incident, you may yet live. I respect your father's love for you and as such, have no want to kill you, though I'm certain my wife will have something to say on the topic. She feels no such sentiment."

Asserting what she believed was her power over Hannibal though in fact, she had none, wagging the gun in the air, Alena commanded, "Cut his bonds, Doctor."

Stepping down hard, Hannibal elicited a muffled grunt from his victim. "If you want me to cut this animal loose, step to the side and let my son pass. If not, I will use by blade, wetting it first with his blood, then with your own.

Searching the air to determine his wife's position, Hannibal caught the scent of Lady Murasaki. His wife was no longer present. He stepped on Chavez's throat once more. A whimpering moan followed.

"I am waiting for you to move to the side and let my son pass. His aunt is just behind you. Allow the boy to join her and I will release your beast."

Hearing Chavez's pain, Alena screamed, "Stop giving orders like you're in charge because you're not. I am!"

Devyni stepped further away from Alena. He was no longer smiling. His father could taste his fear. Hannibal snapped his fingers, garnering his son's attention.

"You are safe, little one. I am near. Do not let the words or actions of others frighten you. Daddy is here."

"Don't lie to your son, Hannibal."

"If you followed the home training your father sought to instill, you would understand that based on your age and station in life, it is unseemly for you to address my by my Christian name."

"Okay…_Hannibal_."

Ignoring her attempt to unhinge him, Hannibal continued, "Your poor manners aside, it is not your concern how I handle my son any more than it matters who is or is not in charge. If you continue to threaten my family, the death I will visit upon you will be of biblical proportions. Move away from my son and I will release your lover. If not, I crush his windpipe and gut him. The choice is yours."

Biblical. A stroke of genius.

Confused by the interaction, Devyni asked quietly, "Excuse me, Daddy?"

Softening his gaze as he shifted his attention from Alena to his son, Hannibal questioned, "Yes, my son?"

"What does gut him mean?"

"Do you know that I would do anything to protect you?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"That is what it means."

Alena clicked the safety off the weapon. "I'm not asking again."

Stepping hard on Chavez's neck causing the man to whimper in agony, Hannibal hissed, "Nor will I."

Seeing Hannibal's intensity, Alena stepped aside. "I've kept my part of the agreement, now you keep yours. Cut him loose."

Ignoring Alena, Hannibal called out to Lady Murasaki, "Dear aunt? Would you join us, please?"

Quietly appearing from behind the wall, Lady Murasaki responded, "Yes, Hannibal?"

"Please remove my son and return him to the secured room. Remain with him and do not open the door under any circumstances. I am about to release Chavez. I don't want my son exposed to the situation."

Lady Murasaki stepped forward, taking the boy by the hand. Devyni tugged, attempting to free himself, imploring, "But I want to stay with you, Daddy, please."

"I'm sorry, Hannibal, you cannot."

Devyni raised his arms, clutching at the air with his star shaped hands, pleading to be picked up by his father. "But, Daddy, I said please! I used my manners!"

"I'm sorry, little one. You used your manners well, but now is not the time. As I said, this is a grownup game and Daddy is very busy. Please, my dear son. Go with your aunt."

Lady Murasaki lifted the boy, holding him close. "Come, Hannibal. We will play a game until Daddy returns."

Wrapping his arms around his great-aunt's neck, Devyni's head dropped over her shoulder, his lower lip quivering. Though he was unhappy, he would not disobey. His eyes welling, Devyni waved to his father as his aunt took him from the room.

Steely-eyed, Hannibal closed the door to his feelings.

"He was crying. How does that make you feel? The last memory your son will have of you is your refusal to play with him, even though he said please. You handed him off to an old woman. Aunt or not, you're going to die and he's going to hate you forever."

Bending, though his eyes never left Alena, the good doctor reached down, slipped his harpy between the neatly tied ropes, and hooked upward, slicing the bindings that trapped Chavez.

Seeking to enrage the now freed thug, Hannibal snarled, "Stand if you can, dog. Your bitch is here to retrieve you."

Kicking and thrashing to free himself from the bindings, Chavez leapt to his feet. Stepping back, Hannibal braced himself for the attack he not only knew would follow, but hoped would last for several minutes. His son would need to be secured, and his wife would need time to disable the vehicle.

_I will feel no pain. When the scent is gone and all is well, I shall fight back. Until then, the love of my family will sustain._

Not wanting his Harpy to be used against him, Hannibal tucked the blade into his waistband, allowing the now folded blade to slide very slowly down his pant leg. Shuffling his foot, he allowed the weapon slip silently to the ground, carefully tucking it between the sink and the stove. It would be easy enough for him to retrieve, but too well hidden to make it worth Chavez's efforts to find it.

"I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life, Lecter. Then I'm going to let you watch me fuck your wife before I kill you."

"You're what?" Alena questioned, thrown off by the comment.

"Shut up, Alena." Chavez warned, "Let me make him suffer. If you do, I'll hold you above all others. You will be my queen."

"I can be your queen _after_ you fuck his wife?"

Unwilling to debate his plans, Chavez warned, "I am not interested in your anger. Just don't get in my way."

"Fuck you, Chavez. Just hurry the hell up while I bring the truck around. When you're finished, bring him out the front door. You can dump him on the bed of the pickup and sit with him. You're not riding in front with me."

Alena stormed from the home, slamming the door as she exited.

"Good. Now there's no audience." His arrogance unaffected by the submissive position to which he'd been subjected, Chavez immediately surged toward Hannibal, gripping the doctor's shirt with his left hand.

Menacing, he launched a punishing flurry of jabs to Hannibal's face, snapping the good doctor's head back. The blood welled in Hannibal's mouth as his teeth pierced his lower lip. Drawing his hand across his lips, Hannibal tasted his own blood, grinning as he commended, "Exceptional."

Hannibal's reaction enraged Chavez.

"You like the taste of your own blood?"

"It will do until I taste yours."

"Fine…you'll have more of it."

Gripping Hannibal behind his head and pulling down, Chavez thrust his knee upward, smashing his patella against Hannibal's face. Dropping to his knees, Hannibal collapsed to the ground, smiling.

"What are you smiling for, old man, I'm going to take your wife."

"No, I'm going to take your life."

* * *

Following Hannibal's directions, Clarice ran to the barn and cut a length of hose. Searching for Chavez's truck, she found it behind the corral. She considered piercing the gas tank, but that wouldn't be practical. She needed to assure enough gas remained to start the truck and leave the property. Giving her the most control, siphoning the gas would be her best bet.

_I'm trusting you, H, so you'd better be right. Our son had better be safe._

She didn't dare use her own mouth to siphon the fuel. She was pregnant and god only knows what that would do. Instead, she rigged a siphon by attaching the hose with duct tape securing it to the wet-vac she found stored in the barn. The suction made for quick work. Pouring the fuel into a red plastic container designed for gasoline, she carried it to her own car, filling her tank. Repeating the siphoning process and disposing of the excess fuel several times, Clarice reserved the last jug for her own purposes and waited for Alena to retrieve the truck.

* * *

The moment Hannibal hit the ground he opened the cabinet below the sink. Scrambling beneath the cabinet, appearing as if he was attempting to hide from Chavez, he was looking for three items: a sponge, pine sol, and bleach. As Hannibal searched for the materials, Chavez rained punches, digging his fists into Hannibal's sides.

"I'll soften you up, tie you with the ropes you used on me, then go find your wife."

Flipping the caps off the liquids, Hannibal soaked the cloth, held his breath and flipped onto his back. Gripping a fist of Chavez's hair, Hannibal closed the cloth over the man's face, holding it tight. Clutching the drug dealer's head, Hannibal held the homemade chloroform over Chavez's face. The man thrashed for a moment as he attempted to avoid breathing in the noxious fumes, but within seconds he was desperate for air, inhaling the poisonous gas. Eyes rolling, Chavez lost consciousness.

"Fuck my wife, will you? I think not."

Hannibal tied the man, lifted him by the bound wrists, allowing the body to drop over his shoulder in a modified fireman's carry. If Alena had the truck, they would leave together. If not, he would kill them here. Either way, they would be dead and he would feast on Chavez this night.

* * *

Alena rushed to the truck and turned the ignition. The vehicle started immediately.

"Disabled, my ass!" Looking at the gas gauge, she could see the tank had been drained. The low fuel warning light came on. Pounding the steering wheel, she screamed, "Motherfucker!"

Jumping out of the truck, Alena looked around. Seeing nothing of any use, she hopped back into the pickup.

"Okay, Clarice…you'd better hope I have enough gas to make it off your compound otherwise, you're going to have to deal with Chavez before you die."

As Alena shifted the vehicle, Clarice climbed into the back of the pickup carrying the red jug filled with gasoline.

_Okay, H…let's see what you've been up to._

* * *

Standing in front of his home, the moment Alena drove up, Hannibal moved toward the vehicle. He'd tossed a sheet over Chavez so she wouldn't recognize the body. Alena wouldn't question it. She was too angry with Chavez to take a closer look.

Placing the body on the bed of the truck, Hannibal climbed on as well. He was surprised to see Clarice but said nothing until Alena began driving. They were heading toward the compound.

"Clarice, why didn't you stay at home? You know this isn't safe."

"Someone's got to watch your ass, H, and you know it's my favorite view."

"Brilliant, my Love. I couldn't have planned it better."

"Well, technically you did plan it, I just came along for the ride."

"A fact that concerns me, Clarice."

"Why would that concern you?"

"Because I am about to kill this man and harvest an organ. It is one thing to know I kill. It is another thing to watch me do it. If I remember correctly, when I dispatched Paul Krendler, you became physically ill. Please leave with Alena. Drop her at her father's home and go to ours. I will be along presently."

The truck's engine began to sputter, beginning to run out of gas just shy of the ranch. Believing she was transporting Chavez and an incapacitated serial killer, Alena needed to find immediate cover. Familiar with the area she pulled into the same secluded spot Hannibal and Clarice used to park their car on their clandestine visits to the ranch.

"I'm not leaving without you, H. There's no reason for it. Just kill the motherfucker so we can go home."

"It isn't that easy, Clarice. As you've pointed out…I like to play with my food."

Hopping off the truck, Hannibal folded down the truck's gate, pulling the still unconscious man from the bed. Dragging Chavez, Hannibal allowed the body to drop to the ground with a thud. As Alena came around the back, Hannibal took out a very small bottle filled with the hastily made homemade chloroform. Soaking a linen handkerchief, Hannibal covered her mouth. Struggling for much longer than Chavez, Alena finally succumbed.

"Would you restrain Alena, Clarice? I've Mr. Chavez with which to deal."

"Okay, H. Just do what you have to do quickly. We've got to get out of here."

"Not to worry, my Love. I have simply to find three appropriate trees."

"Three trees? What the hell, H?"

"This gentleman thinks himself a god. It is only fitting he die in the same fashion."

* * *

It took more than an hour for Hannibal to complete his plan. He visited the truck several times to retrieve supplies, each time looking more cheerful than the first. There were sounds. Disturbing sounds. Clarice ignored them.

On the last trip, Clarice commented, "You closing in on this, champ?"

"Yes, Clarice. I apologize for the wait. Would you like to see my handiwork? I am actually quite proud of this particular tableau. I've set up the entire act. I need only complete the deed. It is a very fitting end I think, though it is not for the fainthearted."

"If I was fainthearted, I doubt I would have lasted five minutes with you."

"Yes, that is true. It is why I love you so. You never cease to amaze me, Clarice. Come along. I'm certain you'll appreciate the irony of the imago."

"Can't wait, H, I've always wanted to see you work."

"I must admit I was quite inspired, as you helped me to come to this decision. I was thinking of Tennessee. Though this tableau does not have the patriotic grandeur, the rustic nature is historically accurate and as such, is appropriate to my intentions."

Leading Clarice through the wooded area, Hannibal directed her to a small cluster of saplings. There he was, Chavez, in all his god-like glory, lashed between three trees, stretched out in a pose reminiscent of the crucifixion of Christ.

With a broad sweep of his arm, Hannibal presented his work. "Fitting is it not, my Love?"

Shaking her head, Clarice mused, "How the hell did you get him up there, H?"

Walking around the trussed man, Hannibal pointed to the trees, explaining with pride, "I used the ropes and trees to create a pulley system, Clarice. He is lashed to the center tree by his waist and throat to support the weight of his body. His hands were lashed to the outer trees. His feet, one placed very carefully over the other, were tied to the center tree."

Clarice stood in front of the man, amazed, "Impressive, H…really. How the hell did you keep him still long enough to tie him down so well?"

"I used the chloroform mixture several times to make certain he was secured. He's just waking now. Alena?"

"She's out like a light."

"Not for long. Is she secured?"

"No…well, kind of. I loosely hobbled her legs and attached them to her bound hands. If she tries to escape, she can't go far. I looked for her weapon, did you take it?"

"Yes, of course." Hannibal jingled the left pocket of his trousers. Clarice could hear several rounds rolling about.

Suddenly, Chavez woke. The moment his eyes opened and he realized his predicament, he attempted to scream. The sounds were interrupted by the balled sock stuffed in his mouth; it wasn't as if he needed it any longer.

His hands clasped firmly behind his back, Hannibal paced in front of Chavez, hissing, "Welcome to your going away party."

Chavez attempted to struggle, but the moment he tugged on his arms and legs, the ropes tightened, choking him.

Wanting to enjoy the moment, Hannibal continued to stalk in front of the man as Clarice watched. She'd spent long nights wondering what he was like when he killed. Paul Krendler didn't count. That wasn't her lion. That was a cat dropping a mouse at her feet, a gift for her. This was different. This was seeing something in the wild, like a lion taking down an antelope. His eyes burned. His aura radiated. This was his true nature. Clarice was not only unafraid she was impressed.

"I wanted you to see my lovely wife. You told me you would fuck her as I watched. Now she will watch as _you_ die."

"How's he going to die, H, I mean, it's just a bunch of ropes. Are you going to hang him?"

"I haven't nailed him down, yet. Once I've accomplished that, I'll lower the rope supporting his chest. Respiratory distress will soon follow. Allow me to demonstrate."

Moving to the tree on the right, Hannibal unlashed the rope securing Chavez's chest. Hannibal let out the rope, allowing the man's body to drop. He didn't let the rope out more than an inch, two perhaps, but the effect was immediate and severe. Gasping, the weight of his body falling forward placing a death grip on his throat, Chavez struggled.

"Science. Pretty fucking impressive."

"Well and bluntly put, Clarice."

With his prey lashed no more than a foot off the ground, Hannibal could easily reach Chavez's arms. Reaching into his pocket, Hannibal removed a large spike. Stretching, Hannibal danced his fingers across each of Chavez's phalanges as if depressing a series of piano keys.

"There are many bones in the human hand, 27 in fact. As I will be displacing several, you may experience some discomfort, not that it matters to me. I simply thought I'd offer you the courtesy of a warning."

Hannibal centered the spike over Chavez's palm. "Though the more historically accurate position of the nail would be the wrist, I am rather attached to the Catholic iconography of the crucifixion. For our purposes, we will entertain that aesthetic."

His hand flapping wildly, Chavez attempted to avoid the contact.

Slapping the man's fingers flat, Hannibal steadied the hand. Reaching behind him, Hannibal tugged the hammer he'd tucked in his belt. Waving it in front of Chavez, he taunted the man, dragging the claw of the hammer the length of the restrained arm, questioning playfully, "The nail may have a bit of rust. When was your last tetanus booster?"

Laughing, Clarice chimed, "Ouch, that was cruel, even for you, H. I love it!"

"Thank you, Clarice. As I said, you inspire me."

Raising the hammer, Hannibal winked, warning Chavez, "This is really going to hurt."

Continually pounding the hammer, Hannibal drove the spike through the drug dealer's hand. Chavez twisted in agony, his mouth clenching around the sock shoved halfway down his throat.

Hopping from his foothold, Hannibal continued to pace in front of Chavez. The trapped man's eyes were wild with fear, the searing pain causing him to sob, phlegm and saliva clogging his throat, mucus flowing freely from his nostrils.

As he'd explained to Clarice, understanding pressure on the cardiovascular and respiratory systems are the probable cause of death during crucifixion, Hannibal sought to relive the symptoms, slowing the process. Seeing the strain, Hannibal tightened the rope around the chest supporting Chavez.

"You mustn't die too soon. It will shorten your party and ruin my fun."

Reaching into his pocket, Hannibal withdrew another spike. Approaching Chavez, Hannibal traced the tip of the nail down the bridge of his victim's nose. Tapping the point on the tip of the dealer's nose, Hannibal spoke in low tones, his voice taking on the harsh rasp of the dungeon as he hissed, "Do you know where this spike will go? You enjoy defiling women. You spoke of my wife in such a way. You wanted to use her for your carnal pleasure, did you not?"

Ignoring the pain of his pierced hand, Chavez thrashed. Tugging and twisting, though his movement was limited, his blued, his eyes bulged as he shifted his hips to avoid the inevitable.

"I see this thought causes you some distress. I'll give you a moment to think on that. Perhaps it will be next…perhaps last. We shall see. Would you prefer that I impale your hand, your feet or the pathetic member dangling between your legs?"

Terrified, Chavez began clenching and unclenching the free hand, waving it wildly.

"Ah, made your choice? Do not say I was not accommodating, when you get to the other side, though I doubt the devil cares."

Moving around the body, placing the spike on the second palm, Hannibal once more lifted the hammer and dropped it down. This time, whether by accident or design, Hannibal pierced bone with flesh, causing Chavez to howl wildly, muffled only by the sock stuffed in his mouth.

"Are you trying to speak? Certainly, I'll allow you that courtesy."

Tugging the sock free, Hannibal stepped back, suggesting, "You have something to say to me?"

Straining to speak, his voice cracking from pain and fear, Chavez looked past Hannibal, instead addressing Clarice. The man begged, pleading for his life, his eyes desperate as he implored, "Please, please, stop him. You're a mother. You're carrying a baby. You can't stand by, watch him do this and not help me. It's heartless. It's cruel."

Unaffected by the man's begging, Clarice responded calmly, "I'm a mother carrying _his_ baby and you told my husband you were going to fuck me? You don't think raping a pregnant woman in front of her husband qualifies as heartless and cruel?"

"I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!"

"Yeah, well, whether you meant it or not, you said it. You wanted to fuck me? Well, now you're fucked." Turning to her husband, she stated simply, "Have fun with your food, H…I've got to check on Alena."

"A moment, Clarice."

Taking out another spike, tugging at the man's belt, Hannibal asked, "Do you dress to the right or the left?"

Realizing the next spike would be driven through his manhood, Chavez begged, "No…no, please…don't please…"

"I'll guess then, if you'll permit."

Hannibal leveled the spike to the right of the zipper and drove the nail down. From the screams, Clarice assumed her husband had hit the target.

"Okay, H…seems as if you hit the jackpot. I'll be back in a minute."

"Wait…wait…don't go…stop him! Please…please…stop him."

Turning she faced Chavez. Tired of his whining and frustrated by his cowardice, Clarice suggested, "Oh, why don't you stop whimpering and die like a man."

* * *

Returning to the truck, Clarice checked on Alena, just waking up.

The moment she realized the tables had been turned, Alena turned up the charm.

"Hey, Clarice. Thank god! Chavez tied me up. He could be anywhere. Can you untie me and help me get out of here. I think he's got Hannibal and I'm worried. Seriously, he's crazy. Christ knows what he's capable of."

Clarice laughed. "After that last spike, I can tell you what he's _not _capable of."

"What? I don't understand."

"Why don't you come along with me and I'll show you. Hannibal's just having a bit of fun with him. I doubt he can last much longer."

"Chavez?"

"No. Hannibal. He'll be bored soon. He's probably already considering what part he's going to harvest?"

Shaking off her chloroform cloud, Alena questioned, "Harvest? I don't understand."

Gripping the girl by the arm, Clarice cut the ropes hobbling Alena. Subconsciously, she hoped the girl might run. She hadn't shot at a moving target in quite some time.

"His name isn't Hannibal the Cannibal without reason. If he kills, he eats."

Alena swallowed hard, questioning, "And you'd allow that?"

"Well, I wouldn't cook it, and the meat's not to my taste, but H is the chef in the family."

"That's disgusting."

Unaffected, Clarice stated simply, "I don't see why. Meat is meat. What's the difference?"

That comment terrified Alena. She believed Clarice was the voice of reason in the relationship. She had no way of knowing that Clarice was the only person who could even terrify Hannibal. "Holy shit, you're as crazy as he is."

"No, actually I'm even more crazy than he is, and if you keep acting like Chavez, you'll be as dead as he will be soon."

"Go fuck yourself!"

"Don't need to. I've got H for that, but if Chavez is your lover, I'm so sad for you."

"Why is that?"

"First, because his penis is so tiny, H could hardly find it in his trousers and second because that itty bitty little thing has been put out of commission, so you're pretty much out of options, now."

"This isn't funny! Where is Chavez?"

Pushing the girl into the clearing, Clarice announced, "H, thought you might want another audience member."

Turning, Hannibal bowed and with a flourish of his hand, proclaimed, "All are welcome. We've come to the last act, but better late than never!"

Holding the spike just beneath the malleolus of the top ankle, Hannibal repeatedly slammed the hammer, driving the spike through both legs and into the tree.

Fully spent, Chavez sobbed, his chest heaving, blood pouring.

"We've come to it, the final moment. When our Lord Jesus Christ was crucified, his side was pierced with a lance." Presenting his Harpy, Hannibal spoke, "This will have to do."

Digging into Chavez's side, Hannibal tore the flesh with the hook of the harpy, opening a massive wound. Chavez screamed, his howls echoing in the night sky, though the moans didn't last long. As Hannibal tugged the liver from the man's body, Chavez gasped, surrendering to the god he'd long abandoned.

Alena crumbled to the ground at Chavez's feet, sobbing.

Finding the response entertaining, Hannibal commended, "How appropriate. Jesus had Mary Magdalene holding vigil at his death. You were named well, it seems."

"What are you planning to do with me?"

Hannibal looked momentarily confused, "I actually hadn't thought that far ahead."

Clarice turned her head and laughed. Of course he had. He probably had a thousand scenarios running through his mind at any given time. He'd not only considered everything Alena might do, he had a contingency for each.

"I imagine your fate to be in your own hands. You can either return to your father and change your life or you can follow you lover to hell."

Tossing her own gun at her feet, Hannibal announced, "There is one round in the weapon. You can use it on yourself or you can save it in the event there is a predator loose. It will offer a measure of protection on your walk home. Clarice and I will make use of the truck."

"The truck is out of gas, genius."

"Thanks for noticing, yes, he is a genius." Clarice added sarcastically, "As for the gas, no shit, Sherlock, I emptied it. That's why we brought our own."

"So what am I supposed to do, now? You killed the only man I'll ever love!"

Responding to the comment, Hannibal offered, "Your standards are far too low, Alena. If that poor excuse for masculinity represents the only man you are capable of loving, perhaps you should put the muzzle of the weapon against your head and pull the trigger."

Dragging the blade across his tongue to clean it, relishing the taste of the serum, Hannibal closed his harpy and tucked it into his sleeve. Commenting without emotion he offered, "Your home is a short walk from here. As I've told you before, your fate, as it has always been, is in your hands, Alena. You decide."

Hannibal, liver draped over his right arm like a maître d's towel, put his left arm around his wife, pulling her close.

"Are we just leaving her here?" Clarice asked, confused.

"Not just, Clarice."

Walking toward the car, both Hannibal and Clarice heard the safety come off the weapon. The click as she pulled the trigger, caused both Hannibal and Clarice to turn. The weapon, unloaded, had been aimed at Hannibal.

Clarice quickly slipped her hand into Hannibal's left trouser pocket, retrieving several 9mm shells. Walking up to Alena, Clarice snatched the weapon from the girl's hand, loaded it, pressed the weapon against Alena's temple, and pulled the trigger. Alena crumpled to the ground in a heap. Wiping the weapon clean of prints, Clarice then placed the gun in Alena's hand and fired additional shots. Allowing the hand to drop, the weapon still clutched in the girl's death grip, Clarice stood quickly and joined her husband.

"Anything you want from that one, H?"

Hannibal kissed his wife. "No, Clarice. The only woman I intend to taste tonight is you."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	43. Chapter 43

**HANNIBAL'S PARTY PLANS**

Hannibal reached within his pocket, removing a large zip-style plastic bag. He placed the liver within the bag, zipping the opening closed. Tucking the liver beneath his arm, he then withdrew a handkerchief, wiping his hands.

"It has been a very long night, Clarice. I believe it's time to get you home for a bit of sleep."

"I don't mind going home, but there's no way I'll be able to sleep, H."

"Perhaps not, but it's been a trying twenty-four hours. You'll need time to decompress."

Escorting his wife to the truck, palm pressed firmly, fingers widely splayed Hannibal rested his hand comfortably on the small of her back. Neither attended to the now-bagged liver tucked carefully under his opposing arm. Instead the pair enjoyed the motion of their bodies as they walked, arms around one another toward the dead man's truck in the direction of the now rising sun.

Sunrise slowly heating his face, Hannibal turned his head from side to side gathering the aromas as the warm breezes sent the scent of death swirling about. Though Clarice could not perceive a change, it has a heady effect for one whose senses were as finely tuned as Hannibal's. He breathed deeply.

_Intoxicating. _

The aromas combined with the active flood of sensory input caused by his wife's proximity created an intense experience for the hypersensitive man. He hadn't killed in quite some time. It was not only his senses but emotions, too, coming into play as Hannibal catalogued the tactility, scents and sounds around him. His wife's defense of him was an emotional experience. He had killed in front of his aunt, but with an entirely different outcome. She hadn't understood the need. Not then. Perhaps now, though that remained to be seen. But his Clarice, she always understood.

_It is as if we were made for one another…only you, Clarice…only you. _

Wanting to share the moment, Hannibal broke the silence, speaking quietly, "May I say, Clarice, I am quite enamored with the curve of your back, the way your hips gently sway and your muscles shift beneath my hand. It is quite erotic, as was your defense of me. I am moved. Quite."

Tipping her head to his shoulder, Clarice began to kiss his neck as they walked, nipping playfully at his earlobe.

"Is that your idea of talking dirty, H, 'cause if it is…it's working."

Stopping beside the vehicle, Hannibal placed the bagged liver on top of the vehicle and slipped his hand from his wife's back, gently grasping her hips to pull her close. Placing several tender kisses on her lips, each slightly more expressive than the one previous, he spoke softly, "I am simply expressing my appreciation, Clarice. You move me in ways I had never considered. Something as simple as my hand settling on the small of your back sets into motion..."

Grinding against his body playfully, Clarice bit his lower lip tugging it forward to interrupt his thought. Releasing, she teased, "I know _exactly_ what it sets into motion, H. Have a little respect for the dead and keep it in your pants."

Lunging with faux aggression, Hannibal bit at the flesh of her neck and shoulders, growling low, "For now."

Opening the door, his intention to allow his wife entrance into the passenger side of the truck, Hannibal paused. Dipping his head within the interior, Hannibal snarled. Straightening, he turned his wife from the vehicle and closed the door.

Confused, Clarice pursued, "What's up, H?"

"Nothing more than a minor inconvenience, but it would seem the keys have been removed from the ignition. I should not have assumed Alena left them in the vehicle."

"You know what they say about assuming. I didn't see her carrying a purse, do you think she put them in her pocket?"

"Most likely. I was somewhat preoccupied preparing the chloroform while emerging from the back of the pickup undetected to have attended to that action. It wasn't a particular concern of mine at the time."

"Great. Now we've got to step over her freaking brains to get the keys. Not that it'll be a big pile, but still…gross."

"Not to worry, my Love. As I have no such aversion, I'll attend to that task."

Trotting over to what he believed to be a dead body, Hannibal bent to check Alena's pockets. He straightened very suddenly, his head cocked to the side as if considering a problem.

Clarice, watching from a distance, instantly noticed the unusual movements.

"What's up, H? Does she have the keys?"

Smoothing his right hand over the nape of his neck as he considered the consequences to his discovery, not at all sure what he might do. It dawned on him that he might handle the situation quickly and quietly, but once the story hit the news, Clarice would realize his involvement. Instead, Hannibal explained, "It is not about the keys to the vehicle, it is about lovely young Alena."

Chuckling, Clarice countered, "Well…she's probably not as lovely as she was five minutes ago, but what about her?"

"That is my point. She is not only as lovely, it seems she is very much alive. Wounded, but definitely alive. As a matter of fact, she's sustained what appears on the surface to be very minor wounds."

Walking toward the scene to confirm the fact with her own eyes, Clarice argued, "That's not possible, H. I pressed the weapon to her skull. I mean…what the hell?"

His head slightly oscillating as he enjoyed the scent of blood wafting in the air Hannibal stood casually. Hands in his pockets, hips shifted he leaned the majority of his weight on one leg. He smiled at his wife's purposeful stride amused by her body language. It seemed to him by the look on her face that his wife was highly insulted the girl had the nerve to survive as if it was a personal affront to her skills.

Coaxing a response Hannibal clarified, "I'm not insulting your marksmanship, Clarice, I am simply presenting the facts as I see them. This rather sloppy result, no fault of your own of course, is precisely the reason my weapon of choice would never be a 9mm pistol. It isn't the most reliable handgun when death is the preferred outcome."

Arriving beside her husband, Clarice looked down. Alena was indeed, breathing.

"How? Seriously! How the hell does that even happen?"

Hannibal placed a consoling hand on his wife's shoulder.

"It may be that she moved at the very last moment. It may be the concussion caused the barrel to shift and the round to skip off her skull, though I'm certain she is concussed at the very least. There is a possibility of subdural bleeding as well. Maybe a level of traumatic brain injury…further testing would be needed to make that determination."

"She's going to live?"

Gesturing toward the weapon on the ground, Hannibal teased, "That is up to you. Perhaps you would like a mulligan, Clarice?"

"This isn't a round of golf, H, it's a person's life."

Not mincing words, Hannibal asserted with a glint of mischief in his eye, "A person's life you, moments ago, sought to end."

"She tried to kill you, H! She pointed that gun at the back of your head and pulled the trigger. Fuck her."

Thoroughly engaged and not one to waste a moment of wit, a wicked smile curled across his face as he replied, "No, Thank you. Not when I have a wife as lovely as you, Clarice."

"Again with the wiseass comments! What do you think? Really?"

Taking to his knee to better examine Alena, Hannibal checked her pulse and assessed her pupils. Satisfied with the result, he then tested her reflexive responses. Having confirmed his initial diagnosis, he was now certain. Straightening, standing shoulder to shoulder with his wife, the pair looking down as they debated the girl's fate, Hannibal leaned against his wife's body.

"I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news but her injuries are in no way life threatening." Seeking her intention, though he was certain he knew, Hannibal questioned, "If you would like this young woman to cease breathing, Clarice, you or I will be forced to act. Is that your wish?"

Clarice watched the young woman's ribs rise and fall with each breath.

Hannibal attended his wife with rapt attention.

"Are you capable of putting a bullet into the head of a girl who no longer poses a threat, my Love?"

Clarice didn't respond. She simply stood over the girl, watching.

Sensing the heightened conflict simmering within, Hannibal began smoothing his hand on his wife's back. There was no romantic intent in the gesture, nor was it an overt attempt to comfort. Instead, he used the gesture to covertly test that to which his senses had already alerted. Confirming his initial thought, he spoke softly, his voice a low burr in her ear, "Your breathing is becoming shallow, quickening even, Clarice."

Unblinking, she responded, "Is it? I hadn't noticed."

Pursuing relentlessly, Hannibal affirmed, "Alena is quite helpless."

"H…"

She didn't continue her thought. Even through her physicality her conflict was obvious to her husband, her muscles taut, unyielding. Allowing her a few moments to process, Hannibal continued, "My Love, I await your intent."

His hand still in place smoothing across her back he noted her inhalations were subconsciously aligning with Alena's. Hannibal understood his wife's unintentionally sympathetic physical response.

_Empathy. Alena is helpless…is she now your lamb, Clarice?_

Though he understood the concept, it was not an emotional response with which he could easily identify. Either the girl was a threat, or she was not. There was no vacillation. No moral judgment. No indecision in his eyes, like the look swimming within his wife's pools of blue. The shift was palpable.

"Are you now of a different mind, Clarice?"

Anxious, Clarice spoke softly, "I…I don't know. It's different."

His expression and tone remained neutral as he questioned, "Is it?"

"You don't think it's different now?"

"I have no feelings at all in this regard, my Love. This young woman's life, as it has always been, is unimportant to me. Live or die, the decision remains with you. My only thought is for your well-being, not Alena's."

Concerned with the effect the conflicting emotions were having on his wife, and by extension, their unborn child, to confirm her intent, Hannibal played devil's advocate, questioning, "What is the difference to which you referred, Clarice? You wanted her dead. She is not."

Her body swaying with indecision, Clarice debated aloud, "I can see that…the difference is…a minute ago she'd just tried to kill you. Now she's just…she's just _there_. I don't know how I feel about that."

"Yes. You do. You know exactly how you feel you are simply having a problem putting words to the sentiment. Do not measure your feelings against mine. Though I do not share the sentiment, there is no shame that you now feel some level of sympathy for this girl_._ Though you are a warrior, Clarice, you and I differ in that. I have no moral qualms killing a person who attempted to kill me, conscious or not. If it is your wish she die this day, but you would prefer not to handle the situation, I can attend to it. Would you prefer I slit her throat to be certain she expires or would you prefer an attempted round or two of put-the-bullet-in-the-brain?"

"You don't have to be so flippant about it."

His voice a low hiss, stressing his thoughts, Hannibal tempted, "Don't I? My so-called victim is quite dead, as that was my intent. Your victim is not. What is your intent, Clariiice?"

Twitching at the dungeon tone hissing in her ear, Clarice defended, "What are you saying, H? You don't think I intended to kill her? I pointed the goddamned weapon at her head!"

"This is not a judgment and I am not saying anything, I am asking. You looked away from the girl, and your body turned as you fired. Is that the bureau's standard procedure when discharging a firearm?"

Lowering her head, Clarice admitted, "No…it isn't."

"Missing a kill-shot is a shameful thing, Clarice, especially if, sub-consciously or not, it was your original intent."

"What do you mean?"

"Though your instinct was to defend me, subconsciously you recognized this girl was no longer a direct threat and perhaps you were turning from your decision to kill her before you had completed your task. If death had been the intended outcome, she would be dead, as you would have fired more than one round…double-tap, as it were. You did not. Therefore, either you had no intention of killing the girl, or you are so far removed from the FBI you might benefit from a little target practice. I would guess the former rather than the latter. In any event, I await your decision."

Slipping her arms around her husband's waist, Clarice rested her head on his chest. Holding her close he sought to alter her breathing and align it to his own. Enfolding her within a snug embrace, Hannibal breathed deeply, holding her head very gently to his chest. Tenderly massaging her back, he held her close, kissing the top of her head. Unspeaking, he awaited her response.

The stress ebbing as her husband's heartbeat calmed her body and mind Clarice questioned softly, "What are the odds she'll pose a future threat, H?"

Wrapping her even more tightly to provide a sense of security and confidence, he responded, "The threat is minimal or I would have slit her throat and dropped her at her lover's feet without thought or discussion."

Lifting her head slightly to seek his eyes, Clarice countered, "You must have considered her some kind of threat or you wouldn't have removed the shells from the weapon."

Before responding, Hannibal kissed his wife. It was a long, tender kiss, romantic, without a hint of lust. His hands slipped beneath the curtain of her hair, his palms cupping her face, thumbs very gently stroking her cheeks. Her face upturned that their eyes could meet, his burning orbs of maroon, a storm of hellfire to most, a maelstrom of unadulterated fury, calmed her. His gaze, reflected within the calming pool of her clear blue eyes, he knew, glowed with his love for her.

"You are pregnant and I love you dearly. I would never risk your life or that of our unborn child for any man's daughter. I am no fool, Clarice. She watched as I slaughtered her lover in an inspired, but admittedly heinous fashion. A reaction was to be expected, but she's far more intelligent than was her partner. Other than that spontaneous attempt, I would say the odds of her posing a threat to our family are negligible. When she awakes, _if _she has any memory of the incident and that is a very big if, odds are she would count herself lucky to have survived your protective instincts and my wrath. If you want her to live and there is ever a threat from this woman you can trust that I will deal with her swiftly and unequivocally. It is my thought, however, it is the last we will hear from this woman."

"I don't want to leave anything to chance, H." Returning her head to his chest, Clarice pursued, "What can we do to help our odds if we let her live?"

_Brave Clarice… _

"Several things, but I shall need their cell phones and we will have to move quickly. Would you retrieve Alena's? I'll attend to Chavez."

Releasing his wife, Hannibal walked to Chavez and searched his pockets to find the man's phone, thankfully unharmed. He then used the menu to search for Alena's number, dialing.

"Pick up the call, Clarice."

"Okay, H, if you're sure. What do I do then?"

"Hold if for a time as if we are conversing and hang up."

Clarice did as she was told waiting several minutes before disconnecting the call.

"Okay, H…now what?"

"Use Alena's cell phone to call our home, the secondary line in the protected room, not the main number."

"But your aunt will pick up."

"Yes. By now the boy is awake and has enjoyed his breakfast. You will ask her to prepare young Hannibal for a morning of shopping and entertainment. Ask that she drive my Bentley and pick you up here. This location is programmed into the GPS under the heading Picnic Area therefore she will have no trouble finding it. I will handle the rest of the arrangements."

"H…I'm not sure I want to leave you here alone."

"I understand leaving me is against your protective nature, but I am perfectly capable of handling this. You must care for the child you carry and tend to the needs of our son. Call home. All will be well."

As Clarice made the call, Hannibal surveyed the area, cataloging each of the things he would need to accomplish and in what order they would need to occur. He would be forced to visit the ranch. Perhaps he might be able to draw some of the men away or, if possible, construct a very large kill, something that would be swift, but wouldn't draw attention and make him the target of a police investigation. Pearsall's earlier intervention had called off the proverbial dogs the first few weeks of the San La Muerta investigation, but there would be little he could do if the evidence mounted. This crucifixion was an indulgence. Best not to tempt fate with another flamboyant kill. Further deaths would have to be carefully executed.

Having finished the phone call, Clarice walked over to her husband, questioning, "You're right, she's just fed the baby so they'll be on their way soon. If you want me to save the number in her phone, what name should I input for the entry?"

"Lecter family room."

"Good idea! If the police question it we can say we use that as a play room for the baby."

"Precisely."

"Anything else I can do to help, H?"

"Be seen, Clarice. This will be a very tricky situation. I need you to establish an alibi in the event Alena implicates you in her injury."

"What about you, H?"

"If your alibi is established, it will negate her attempts to implicate either of us. If one half of her story is blatantly incorrect, due to the head injury, her testimony will not be considered reliable. Be seen and be heard, Clarice. You might discuss me as well. Tell any and all that you are enjoying a wonderful afternoon shopping for your son's birthday after leaving your husband to tend to the home preparations. Purchase extravagant gifts and party supplies. The boy's birthday is soon, therefore it is a perfectly justifiable explanation and will, no doubt, make an impression."

"Okay, H…what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to kill them all, Clarice."

**Until the next chapter, my friends, **

**LH**


	44. Chapter 44

**THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN…**

Offering a black duffle bag, Lady Murasaki bowed.

Bowing slightly in return, Hannibal accepted the change of clothing, responding graciously, "Thank you, dear Aunt." As he turned, his intention to walk to the back of the truck and disrobe, his wife stepped in his path.

Reaching for Hannibal's belt, Clarice tugged, pulling him toward her, teasing, "Hey, Handsome, want me to hold up a blanket or something? I know from experience you keep one in the trunk."

Understanding the reference to the snowy day they'd made love in the Bentley, Hannibal smiled.

"It is a far more temperate day today than the one to which you are referring, and modesty is not a concern of mine. I believe the truck provides adequate privacy, but if it would add to your comfort, by all means, though I have no such need."

"Just thought I'd offer. It's not like we haven't seen it all before." Clarice turned toward Lady Murasaki, the pair sharing a smile.

Hannibal's eyebrow arched, remarking wryly, "Discretion being the better part of valor, I shall leave that comment untouched, Clarice."

Unbuttoning his silk shirt, now sprayed with blood, Hannibal opened the garment revealing his broad chest, flecked too with similar blood spatters.

Unfastening his cuff links he handed them to Clarice, then stepped to the back of the truck to strip off the remaining serum soaked garments. Placing them in the bag, he secured the zipper and tossed the luggage onto the ground behind his car. Stretching his body, he then attempted to access the supplies stored within the trunk, but couldn't reach without revealing his nudity. Not a problem where the women were concerned, but his son was sitting in the back seat of the car. It wouldn't be proper.

"Clarice, may you please hand me the bottled water and towel, it is beyond my reach."

"Sure H, want me to help you clean behind your ears, too?"

"If you are of a mind to help, I can point out a few spots that might be difficult for me to handle alone."

Handing him a large bottle of water and towel, Clarice laughed, "Sorry, H, I'd love to, but I'm watching the baby and since Dev won't reach his full potential for a good many years, unless you want to give our son a massive inferiority complex, you'd better continue to stay behind that truck until you've pulled up your boxers."

"Not to worry, Clarice, I had already taken that into consideration. I have no intention of parading naked in front of the boy."

He very carefully cleaned the blood from his body, toweled off and redressed. Running a comb through his hair he deftly slicked it back from his forehead. After placing the duffle bag in the trunk, Hannibal turned to his aunt. "Were you able to locate the item I requested?"

"Yes. It was precisely where you said it would be." She handed Hannibal a padlock with two keys linked together hanging from the lock.

Tucking the bulky item in his trouser pocket Hannibal kissed his aunt chastely on each of her cheeks. He then escorted her to the car and assisted as she took her seat. When he was certain she was secure, he reached for the door. Before closing it he leaned in, speaking softly, "I want you to know how much I appreciate your assistance. I would not have been as capable of protecting our family from this threat without your help."

Bowing her head slightly. "I dearly love you all and am here to help in any way I can."

"Thank you for the sentiment. Know it is returned."

She smiled, turning to attend to young Hannibal playing quietly with the toys attached to his car seat.

Hannibal was satisfied with the reaction. What he said had pleased her, which was his intent. True or not, it would have been rude not to return the sentiment.

Hannibal turned to Clarice.

"No need to tell you how to handle that evidence, is there?"

"Nope."

"And the man's liver? Is that a concern? I can carry it with me if you have any moral misgivings."

"If I had any moral misgivings, I wouldn't find you as absolutely irresistible as I do. Don't worry. I'll bring home the groceries as long as it's understood you're cooking it. Today. No leftovers."

"Understood. Enjoy your day. I shall see you this evening."

Realizing the pronouncement signaled time had come for her to leave the area, Clarice approached her husband.

Nostrils flaring, he expected the scent of arousal and was confused that all he could detect was heightened anxiety.

_Her stress hormones are escalating, though her demeanor remains casual, flirtatious even. She is worried but does not want to acknowledge that she is afraid. Afraid? Brave Clarice? Why? And why would you feel the need to spare me the knowledge of your worry?_

The inquisitive husband advanced toward his wife until their bodies touched. Unmoving, he waited for her response.

Grasping Hannibal's pinky finger, Clarice began to swing his arm back and forth.

_Playful? Perhaps you are hoping such actions distract?_

Continuing to sway their arms, Clarice questioned casually, "Any more busy work today, H?"

Hannibal squeezed her hand halting the motion, though he did not release his hold.

"I can feel your worry, Clarice. Your anxiety surges like an electrical charge churning from your hands into my own. What can I do to set your mind at ease? Do you want to know if I will kill today or are you attempting to assess level of the danger?"

The playfulness gone, she allowed their arms to fall to his side. "I don't know…both, I guess. You see right through me, don't you, H?"

Lifting their joined hands to his mouth he pressed a long kiss to the inside of her wrist, testing her pulse with his lips. "Not always. There are times you are quite the mystery. Now, however, your hormones are betraying you, though I don't fully understand why. You know my abilities, yet you are afraid for me?"

"Yes. No…I'm afraid for me. I'm afraid of being without you. The thought of it…" her voice trailed away.

"Unless something very tragic occurs you will be alone as I am many years your senior, but you've always known that, Clarice. I will not be able to hold you or comfort you on that day, or any day thereafter, that I cannot control, but you cannot live every moment of our lives together fearing that moment. The day of our parting will, inevitably, come, but I promise you, my Love…this is not that day."

Looking down, Clarice nodded, "I know you're right, H…I know, but I can't help it."

"Let us live in _the_ moment, not _that_ moment, shall we?"

"I'll try. You're not going up there to try kill them all now, are you?"

"That bold a move will require planning, Clarice. For today, I shall simply participate in a bit of reconnaissance, unless of course an opportunity presents itself.

Clarice stroked the length of his arms. "So you're sure? You've got this, H?"

Cupping her elbows he pulled her close, caressing her inner arms as he assured, "Yes, Clarice. I have all well in hand."

Concerned pouring from every movement she stepped closer. Their bodies, though touching, were now pressed tightly, the security of this increase contact needed. Looking down, Hannibal gently palmed her swollen abdomen, tenderly massaging the burgeoning belly to calm the mother and comfort the child within.

Placing her hand on his chest she allowed his heartbeat to strike against her palm, her voice a whisper, "You know how much I love you, right?"

Hannibal smiled.

"Yes, I know how much you love me, but I believe you have placed your hand over my heart not as a reflection of that love, but because you think my physical state might reveal to you something I have not."

"You're calm, as always," Patting her hand, she mused, "But you can't blame me for trying."

Leaning over, Hannibal began to kiss his wife's neck, his hands slipping from her belly, sliding over her iliac crest. Growling low in her ear his vocalization buzzed against her flesh as he enjoyed the roundness of her maternal hips. Still reaching, he placed his hands just beneath the curve of her back, fingers spread wide, spanning her back, the curve of her bottom gently bending them outward.

Curling against him, Clarice reached around his waist, her hands slipping into the back pockets of his trousers.

Settling her within his arms, the very tips of his fingers reached beneath her waistband, dipping just slightly within. They were not alone. An inch more would have been ungentlemanly. Pulling her close, Hannibal whispered, "I blame you for nothing and I am certainly not always calm in your presence. You have a way of…"

Slipping her hands free, giggling as he nibbled her neck, Clarice interrupted with a playful smack to his bottom, "Okay, Romeo...I know all about it. Save it for later."

Satisfied he had assuaged her fears for the present, Hannibal straightened, replying dutifully, "As you wish, my Love."

His arms still around his wife Hannibal opened the car door taking a moment to peek into the back seat.

"Hello my son."

"Daddy!"

"You are going to have a lovely day with your mother and your aunt, so be a good boy and show your manners. You are my son and a young gentleman. You represent me when I am not with the family. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good boy. I'm very proud. We will play later, yes? Would you like that?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Very well. We've a plan, then." Clarice released her husband and stepped back to allow Hannibal to lean into the car and kiss his son. He then closed the door, escorted his wife to the driver's side and assisted her as she slipped somewhat awkwardly behind the wheel.

"The baby is getting quite large, Clarice. When is your next appointment with the doctor?"

"Friday. You're coming, right?"

"Of course. I have not and would not miss a single one."

"Good because we're getting close. Not long now."

"Yes…very close. Be careful and have a wonderful day. Make large purchases and an even larger impression, my Love. No cash. Credit cards only."

"Don't worry. I'll leave a paper trail a mile long. You be careful, H, and you do whatever you have to do to come back to me."

Though she said nothing, Lady Murasaki bowed her head, nodding. The gesture caught Hannibal by surprise. It seemed to him to reflect her agreement with Clarice's statement.

_That action is contradictory to past beliefs, certainly, though perhaps age and experience caused this paradigm shift. In any event, she is helping protect my family. Our family. _

Closing the door, he stepped back and waved, watching his family drive from the scene.

* * *

The next several minutes were spent with Hannibal tending to Chavez, removing several items from the man while adding others. When that task was complete, Hannibal took out Alena's cell phone and placed a call.

The recipient lifted the phone from the base and activated the handset, but didn't speak.

_You did not allow the call to go to voicemail, but you are not responding immediately? Are you upset with your daughter for not returning home last night? Frightened she might take you to task for attempting to institute some form of discipline, perhaps?_

Unwilling to wait for the man to suck up the nerve to speak, Hannibal addressed, "Hello, Mr. Cervelli."

The continued pause followed by a very formal clearing of the throat to test his vocal strength confirmed Mr. Cervelli now knew exactly to whom he was speaking.

Voice cracking, stress pouring through the phone, Cervelli returned, "Yes, hello. Forgive me the delay, Dr. Lecter."

"Not at all. I'm speaking on behalf of your daughter. Clarice received a call from Alena's cell phone. As I didn't want my wife to participate in a situation that may have involved Chavez, I told her I would see to it. I have come to find Alena safe, but in need of medical attention."

"Is she alright?"

"She is alive and is not in any danger at this time, but you'll have to arrange medical transport to the hospital. She is unconscious and has a head wound. She was present during an altercation involving Chavez and another individual. Two perhaps."

"Did they hurt her?"

"Not gravely, but Chavez is quite dead. Alena was not the target or she wouldn't have been left alive. From the layout of the scene it appears as if she came upon her lover and was so distraught by the sight she attempted to kill herself. Not to worry, 9mm rounds are known to be somewhat unreliable. I must warn you, what happened to Chavez…well, I guess you might call it gruesome. The man met with quite a savage end."

All true.

"Are you still with Alena? Will you wait for me to arrive?"

"Yes, if you come now, though I have to rush home as soon as possible. My son's birthday is this weekend and my wife and my aunt have taken the boy shopping. I have several tasks to which I must attend before their return."

"I can leave this minute. Where are you?"

"We are located approximately 50 meters south of the path at the clearing near the entrance to your property. It is hidden from the road therefore you shall have to drive along the unpaved road for a time. You will see Chavez's truck. Park. I'll meet you there."

"Thank you, Doctor, I'm on my way."

The next several minutes Hannibal removed any evidence that might connect he or his wife to the scene of this crime.

Hands clasped behind his back, posture erect and tall, Hannibal waited in front of the truck as Cervelli parked his car. The frightened father rushed to Hannibal's side, clamoring, "Where is she, Doctor? Where is my Alena?"

"This way. Please prepare yourself for the state of Mr. Chavez. He has been crucified."

"I'd crucify him myself if I had my hands on him."

Hannibal stopped and turned to face the man. "I am not using the word in the figurative sense, Mr. Cervelli. He has been crucified. Literally."

Realization evolving within his eyes, Cervelli spoke softly, "San La Muerta has had revenge then?"

"She is not fully satisfied. If I am, indeed, her corporeal agent, I expect she will see satisfaction before the week is over. Might I ask a favor of you?"

"Yes…anything."

"I will be suspect, but without proof there is little they can do. If it is mentioned I called to alert you, I will be unable to complete the task and rid you of your…infestation. You must not allude to the men on your property and you must tell the authorities the call to you came from Alena. Is that something with which you are comfortable?"

"Yes…yes it is."

"Very well. Now let me take you to your daughter."

The moment they came upon the clearing, Hannibal held his breath.

_Look closely, my friend and take in the specter as I brace myself for the tsunami your fear will release upon my senses. _

The moment his eyes fell on the scene, Cervelli gasped, nearly choking at the horror. Dropping to his knees, the man sobbed, continually making the sign of the cross, quaking in terror.

_I can almost taste your tears… _

His head tilted as he considered the sight, Hannibal questioned, "Excuse me, forgive my presumption in asking, but why are you crying?"

Tears and mucous flowing, Cervelli sobbed, "He died…horribly."

"No. Actually his death was fairly quick and quite appropriate when one weighs it against how many years he lived horribly. Trust me when I say it could have been much, much worse."

The moment Cervelli turned from Chavez Hannibal moved in the same direction wanting to close the distance so the sensory output from the man's fear wouldn't dissipate as quickly. If he were to enjoy it, which he most assuredly would, he needed to remain close. Sensing Hannibal's approach, Cervelli collapsed, huddling in a protective ball, shaking uncontrollably. His cries were sorrowful, moaning, "Please…I'll tell no one…I'll tell no one…"

The sounds of the man's terror filled Hannibal's ears even as the stench of fear vented unabated into the air. A deep inhalation gathered the aroma twisting and curling within Hannibal's nostrils, settling on his palate like the bouquet of a fine wine. A brief shudder the only physical response as Hannibal triumphantly categorized the event. Allowing a moment, he breathed slowly, relishing.

Knowing his proximity was causing the man no end of grief, Hannibal moved even closer. Bending to his knee, leaning in even closer, his voice buzzed in Cervelli's ear, "You are frightened of me. Why?"

"You killed him...you kill!"

So close he could touch the man, Hannibal hissed in his ear, "Wasn't that the point to my involvement in this situation? Remember, it was not I who made contact with your family but rather the other way around. You wanted this man dead and your family safe. He is dead. She is safe. You are as well, as I do not kill innocents. I am, quite frankly, growing both tired of, and insulted by your behavior."

Cervelli sat in the dirt, scooting closer to Alena. Nodding, he choked back his fear, swallowing hard, gasping, "You're right…you're right. I'm sorry. You have been nothing but…kind."

"While I don't expect your admiration or thanks, I do expect your loyalty. While I have no desire to do you harm, if my family is threatened or if I am implicated in any way, my need for revenge will hold no bounds. I will have no pity. I will show no mercy. The police will not stop me. My wife will not stop me. I will kill each and every member of your family with the same utter pleasure with which I dispatched this man's worthless soul. Do you understand me?"

"Yes. Yes…I understand. I understand."

Alena stirred.

"Papa?"

"The ambulance will be here soon, Alena…don't worry. I'm here."

Papa. The word yanked Hannibal from his thoughts. Taking to a knee he assessed her once more.

"Alena, I'm Doctor Lecter, do you remember me?"

"Yes…Hannibal the Canni…yes, I remember you."

"Do you know my wife?"

"Clarice."

"You spoke to her today. Do you remember the conversation?"

"No…my head hurts. My head hurts."

Hannibal continued as he checked her vitals. "The ambulance will be here soon. What is the last thing you remember?"

"I was in your house…I was in your house."

_Not clear enough._

"With whom?"

"My family…I played with your baby."

"Yes. Young Hannibal is quite fond of you, as am I."

"Don't let him hurt the baby…he's sweet."

"I would never allow someone to hurt my son, but I thank you for your concern, Alena."

Cervelli turned, his eyes flashing what Hannibal perceived as concern.

"It is not unusual to find a gap in one's memory following a traumatic injury. That she recognizes you is a very good sign. She obviously remembers our visit. If she has no memory of the last twenty-four hours, so much the better." Lifting his head, Hannibal turned. "The ambulance is approaching. I shall have to leave you now. You will need to handle this alone. The police will arrive soon, as will the coroner."

Confused, Alena questioned, "Ambulance? Why?"

Comforting his daughter, Cervelli explained, "Alena, you'll need to go to the hospital. You've been injured. Your head."

"My head hurts."

"Yes."

Briskly striding away from the point the ambulance and police would enter, Hannibal considered the events. The kill was far too easy, but it brought with it a certain artistic satisfaction along with the luxury of time. Time to enjoy the tableau. Time to enjoy his wife's responses and her spontaneous defense. Now, it was time to leave. Hannibal jogged through the property wooded with pine, darting between young trees, dipping his head beneath low-lying branches as he headed toward the compound, the scent of death hanging heavy in the air.

_This is going to be fun..._

_**Until the next chapter, my friends!**_

_**LH**_


	45. Chapter 45

**AND THEN THERE WERE…**

When he'd traveled far enough from the scene not to be detected, Hannibal took out Chavez's cell phone and searched the messages, reading them one by one. After thoroughly assessing each communication, he identified the contact he believed to be Chavez's second in command.

_So, Wilfredo, you are the number two it seems. Let us see if I cannot redirect your energies, my friend._

Hannibal composed a text message:

_Meeting now with representatives to discuss the price of next week's shipment. I'm upping the pressure- if this works we'll make much more than expected. Alena is with me so I couldn't meet last night. I'll call when finished, an hour, no more than two._

Hannibal hit send and tucked Chavez's phone in his pocket.

_That should keep your guard down, for now at least._

Reaching the compound, the good doctor stalked the area just outside the main manufacturing building. Very familiar with the interior, he listened, pinpointing the precise location of each individual working within the structure. Not difficult. He'd been inside numerous times over the last several months preparing for this eventuality but it had always been very late at night, the area deserted. Now there were people. Dangerous, true, but he needed to know how many men he would have to face. How many men he would have to kill.

Slipping undetected through the door he listened. It would be necessary to isolate as many distinct voices as possible.

_The headcount will be approximate, but I need no more than a rough estimate._

One man called across the large room to another, the pair chatting so loudly their conversation rose above the din. Hannibal shifted his focus to their conversation.

"Hey, where's Chavez?"

"He texted to say he was meeting some buyers. Should show up in an hour or two, but who knows. He blew me off last night at the dock, said he wanted my help to take the yacht out but didn't show."

_He texted you…Well hello, Wilfredo._

"Why the hell would he want to go out at night?"

_Ah, such presumption, Chavez? And the lesson is, don't count your bodies before they're dispatched…_

"Asked me to bring ropes and weights and a pile of other crap, so I'm assuming to dump a body. I waited for-fucking-ever but he didn't show. I got so goddamned angry I tossed everything in the cell. I gotta be honest, I was hoping he slit that bitch's throat and wanted to dump her."

"No such luck, huh? Why the cell?"

"Because I'll be damned if I'm dragging that crap back and forth every time he gets it in his head he wants to off someone. Knowing Chavez, he spent half the night screwing his whore and forgot all about me. If he wants it he can drag it out himself. If not, I don't care if it rots. I'm sick to death of his bullshit and even more sick of his bitch."

"Think he went after Lecter?"

"Alone? You don't think he's that stupid, do you?"

"Hell, I'm not, but that idiot probably is. He's all balls and no brain. If Lecter got to him first, we're all better off."

"If he got to Chavez, do you think Lecter might come for us?"

"So what if he does? We're thirteen he's one man. I like our odds."

_You like your odds? Against me? I must put a face to this voice…you will receive very, very special treatment._

Hannibal settled against the framework of the loft. Gripping a rough beam, he leaned over the edge, careful to remain unseen but seeking a better view. Within minutes he was able to identify Wilfredo, a tall, gaunt man with gangly limbs and exceptionally high cheekbones. His course black hair was plastered to his skin, streaked across his too-wide forehead, reminding Hannibal of the broad skull of a Staffordshire terrier.

_Thirteen? Not a lucky number for you, my friend. The cell? That must be what they call the stall outfitted with chains. All depends on the status of that area. If he's covered my work my task will be much more difficult, if not impossible. _

Scrambling down the ladder he'd placed in an area with an obstructed view Hannibal jumped from the last step, landing quietly amidst a narrow stable row. He moved hastily to the cell and peered through the bars of the stall's cumbersome wooden door. There were indeed additional supplies placed within. Grasping the hasp, he tugged, sliding the massive door open just enough to allow easement.

_Thankfully this will not hamper my plans, instead providing inspiration... _

Working quickly, Hannibal scoured the area scanning the stacks of supplies in order to carefully catalogue the material. Among the items: six kettle bells normally used for weight lifting and a scuba mask with attached snorkel and swim fins.

_You did intend to take to the water to secure my body? Sorry to have ruined your plans._

Pushing through the pile he could see there was a large length of rope and several rolls of heavy duty reinforced plastic tape. Turning, he noted a pile of trash in the corner, some food wrappers and several empty soda bottles and cans.

_You are not the tidiest of individuals, are you? Enjoying your meals here without cleaning up behind yourselves? So much the better for me, as you will not attend to changes in the area as readily. _

As he had with Chavez, Hannibal removed several items, leaving more in their place.

_You are all very crafty, but you've not come up against one as prepared for this as I. The moment the time has come you will think you have every advantage. This will be slow, deliberate and decisive. Though I will endure much to achieve my end, your discomfort will exceed mine ten-fold._

Reaching at the base of the stall Hannibal felt along the floor, his fingers nimbly tracking along the distressed timber just beneath the hoops and chains. Finding a slight depression, he used his thumb and forefinger to pinch at the small hole. Locating his target, he tugged at a thin nylon line and pulled it through, threading it around a small key ring to assure the line would not withdraw once more. To be certain it would not be easily seen, he buried the tiny object under some loosely strewn hay. Satisfied the area was prepared, Hannibal exited the cell.

Nostrils flaring, he almost instantly detected a presence. Ducking behind a car, he peered around the vehicle to see a squat, sturdy man with greasy knuckles carrying a set of wrenches. This solitary stranger walked around the back of another car.

_What are you doing my lone friend? Shall I take advantage of this situation? Is the risk worth the reward to eliminate an additional threat?_

Deciding each death need not reflect any significant judgment or creativity, Hannibal thought it best to cut down every man he could the moment the situation presented itself. It didn't have to be any kind of personal statement. Dead was dead and the dead would not be able to harm his family.

Closely observing, creeping low along the edge of the building, Hannibal continued to watch and wait. Suddenly the man disappeared behind a car.

_Do you see me, my friend? Doubtful as your stress levels are unchanged. What are you up to skulking along the ground?_

Mirroring the man's movements, Hannibal flanked the position careful to remain low to the ground. Assuming a prone position, he surveyed the area in hopes he would see the man's feet. Instead, he saw the prone profile of the man's body and noticed the car seemed to be shifted at an awkward angle.

_Perfect. Truly. Now it is time to see how well you control your fears…_

Standing upright, Hannibal circled until he was certain the man had noticed the movement. Standing absolutely still he waited patiently for the man's response. Several minutes passed yet Hannibal remained, unmoved.

Finally, the man spoke.

"I don't recognize the shoes? Who's there?"

"Of course you don't, they're Prada wingtips. The sole is quite flexible, very comfortable. You wouldn't be aware as there isn't a man of any taste or breeding within ten miles of this building, perhaps more."

The man didn't respond verbally, though the flood of adrenalin reached Hannibal's nostrils in rapid fashion. Breathing deeply, he addressed with an edge to his tone, "By the lack of response, am I to assume you recognize my voice? Perhaps my reputation precedes me to such an extent that I am unable to carry on a pleasant conversation without instantaneous detection. Regrettable as I was hoping to engage in a casual exchange."

Dropping quickly to the ground, Hannibal pressed himself low, looking under the vehicle. The instant their eyes met, the man froze, wrench still in hand.

A wicked smile surfaced as Hannibal taunted, "Ah, I can see by your slackened jaw and dilated pupils you do indeed know who I am."

Instead of crying out, the man whispered over and over, "No…no…please…no. My family…please…I have a family."

"As do I. It is indeed a shame they will never meet. You have no want to run? Pity. I've always longed to chase my prey though I imagine you are paralyzed with fear, yes? Or playing possum, perhaps?"

"No…no…I'm not coming out. I'm not."

"Remaining beneath this vehicle will not increase your chances of survival. Though I have been likened to a wild animal, my sight recognition does not rely on movement. I can, in fact see you whether or not you chose to move."

"I won't run…I won't…"

"Again, barely a full sentence? Surely you are more articulate than that. Shame, isn't it, that I have this effect on people? It would be so much more enjoyable for me if you were able to fully articulate your fears. Well, no matter. Our conversation has grown tiresome. It is time for you to join your friend. When you arrive in hell you may tell Chavez, San La Muerta sends his regards."

"Pity…please…pity…"

"Pity?" Hannibal hissed, "I have none."

With that, Hannibal kicked his leg backward slamming his foot against the jack, forcing it out from beneath the vehicle. The car dropped suddenly, pinning the man beneath the full weight of the chassis. Remaining on the ground he rested his head casually on crossed hands serving as a pillow, Hannibal watched.

The trapped man struggled for a moment, his slightly twitching legs the only part of his body still able to move. Arms crushed to his chest, eyes wide and terror fully evident, he faced Hannibal, eyes pleading.

"Are you frightened? It is quite an agonizing death, is it not? I apologize I wasn't able to be more creative. It is rather puritanical to be pressed to death, your organs mashing…heart unable to beat. I can smell your fear, you know. That and your bowels releasing, a pleasant addition for the coroner to be sure, though I am certain he or she is accustomed to dealing human excrement such as yourself. Not a very dignified end, but your life was not lived in a dignified fashion, so there it is."

Lifting his head, Hannibal could hear the approach of several men. He knew time was on his side. This man would not last long.

Rapturous eyes unblinking, Hannibal watched. The man's flattened hands, bones pulverized, still clutched the wrench now crushed to his chest. His cheeks bulged, holding with desperation what little air he had been able to retain.

"You are being quite selfish, you know? I am pressed for time and your situation is not survivable, yet you stall. Be a gracious host and release the breath you are holding with such futile ferocity that I may witness the surrender of your soul, such as it is, to the god who made you."

His eyes bulging, face now painted with deep shades of purples and blues, the lips of Hannibal's victim suddenly separated, violently expelling the breath he'd so tenaciously held. As his ribs gave way the protective cage of bones collapsed, lungs bursting, sending dark clots of blood and pulverized organic matter fountaining from his mouth. Caved chest rattling, an explosive volcano of rich crimson foam erupted, spraying from every orifice. Eyes rupturing, white now passed to red, blood streamed to the ground, pooling toward Hannibal.

"Lovely the hues you've created, my compliments, truly. I don't know if it was your calling in life, but in death, you are quite the artist. I must move or my clothing will serve as your canvas. Exceptional death. Ta-ta, my friend!"

Scrambling to his feet as the light left the man's eyes, Hannibal Lecter scuttled along the ground, careful not to lift his body above the sightline of the parked cars. Disappearing behind the building, he headed home.

_And then there were twelve…_

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	46. Chapter 46

**YOU KILL ME…**

As Clarice shopped, she paid very close attention to her cell phone, both sending and receiving text messages from Hannibal.

The message from Hannibal:

_All laundry and errands completed. I went to the Cervelli property to check on your friend. She has been injured. Spoke with her father. He confirms an ambulance was called- all will be well. You may visit Alena tomorrow- memory loss a possibility. Meet for lunch? Location?_

Clarice's response:

_Glad all went well. Lunch sounds great but promised Dev a trip to the park first. We are in the center of town at the educational toy store. Are you far?_

Hannibal's reply:

_See you around._

Hannibal's reference elicited a smile from his wife. She tucked her phone in her pocket.

"Was that Hannibal?" Lady Murasaki questioned.

"Yes. He's finished his errands. He doesn't have his car with him so I think he's going to meet us at the park. I've never seen a man who likes to walk as much as he does. Thankfully it's a gorgeous day."

"He traveled from Lithuania to Paris hitching rides when he could, but he was on foot most of the time. He's got wanderlust, that man. He never could stay still for very long. How he survived all those years in Baltimore…"

The clerk looked up, most likely understanding the reference to Hannibal's years of incarceration.

Clarice noticed, but didn't shy from the conversation, instead responding plainly, "His body may have been in Baltimore, but within his mind he traveled the world."

"Speaking of wanderlust." Looking down at Devyni as the boy tugged her in the direction of a moving toy, Lady Murasaki laughed, "He is his father's son. So inquisitive, the way I remember Hannibal as a boy. Always moving. Always learning."

Placing their final selections on the counter, Clarice agreed, "Yeah, Dev doesn't like to stay put any more than H does. He's daddy's little man, for sure."

Both because his nature was not suited well to restraint and, too, that the boy's stroller was filled with bags of party supplies and toys, Lady Murasaki held Devyni's hand as Clarice shopped. Not that either minded. She doted on her great-nephew, responding to his every question with loving attention. By the wide smile it was obvious the boy's brilliance hungered for the constant stimulation this interaction provided.

Watching young Hannibal searching through the store tugging his aunt in any direction that caught his eye pointing to anything he wanted explained, the clerk assisting the family couldn't help but smile as she checked out the piles of merchandise Clarice selected.

"Your son is a beautiful little boy, Mrs. Lecter. He has his father's good looks and, thankfully, your eyes."

Withdrawing her wallet from her purse, Clarice paused. Looking up, she breathed slowly, perhaps to temper her anger, as she spoke clearly, "Thankfully? Why thankfully?"

Pausing as well, the clerk must have realized how the comment came across. Clarice was making an extremely large purchase, enough to cover the shop's overhead for the next month. It wouldn't do to insult such a generous patron.

"I said that the wrong way, really, I…I didn't mean that to offend."

Unblinking, perhaps channeling her husband, tightly controlled, Clarice nudged, "How _did_ you mean it?"

"I…I meant…your eyes are really pretty…Dr. Lecter's are...I mean…on a man it's one thing…but… on…on a little boy…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" the saleswoman trailed off and stopped talking. Maybe she thought better of her comment. Or perhaps she couldn't find a way to word it that wouldn't make the situation much, much worse. She lowered her head and continued to ring up the sale.

Withdrawing the Centurion card from her wallet, Clarice calmly countered, "Hard as it may be for you to believe, my husband was a little boy once, too, and actually, I was a little disappointed Little H didn't get the maroon irises. I love my husband's eyes. They're as singular as he is."

The clerk lifted her head to respond but stopped, mouth agape, widening eyes shifting over Clarice's shoulder.

Walking silently, Hannibal crept up behind his wife, quietly enfolding her in his arms. Without a word or so much as a flinch, without looking back or speaking his name, Clarice melted against his body submitting fully to the embrace.

Nuzzling his nose along her face, Hannibal softly spoke, "I am surprised your reaction wasn't more pronounced, Clarice. Do so many admirers accost you in public that you are able to remain so remarkably subdued?"

"Not many who'd garner the look that clerk just shot your way or spend as much as you do on cologne. Your scent is very distinct. I could smell you a mile away."

"As if yours, and as can I, Clarice. We are well-suited to one another."

Laughing, she responded, "Thank god! I doubt anyone else would have us!"

"Not true where you are concerned, Clarice." Hannibal rocking gently, his wife's back resting against his torso. Dropping his head over her shoulder, his arms were now fully wrapped around her body. Palming her belly he snuggled close, questioning, "You were speaking as I entered. To whom were you referring, my Love?"

"As singular as you, H. I was talking about your eyes. You know how much I love the shade of deep maroon, but…"

"But what?"

Careful removed all reproach in her tone, she stated, "I don't know…I guess other people find them off-putting."

Rather than take offense Hannibal glanced up at the clerk and smiled, his voice oozing charm as he pronounced, "There is no need to feel hurt or defensive, Clarice. I do not take offense, as it is human nature to fear that thing which deviates from the norm. My eyes are anomalous. People see the deep red hue and believe it reflects evil intent. How could they know my eyes burn only with passion for you, my Love?"

Seeing how sweet Hannibal was with his wife must have affected the clerk. Her voice contrite, she addressed, "I'm sorry, Doctor Lecter. I didn't mean to upset your wife. I was merely commenting that your son is very handsome and it came out all wrong. My apologies. You're a very lovely family."

"We thank you for the compliment and your apology, while appreciated, is not necessary. I fully understand and am in no way hurt by the comment."

Hannibal turned to Clarice, his voice booming with enthusiasm, "Come, Clarice, I shall carry the parcels to the car. If you'll allow, I'd love to take my family out to lunch, but first, the park."

"Sure, H." Clarice turned to the clerk. "Thank you so much for all of your help."

The woman stepped out from behind the counter, holding something up for Clarice to see. It was a lollipop with a looped safety handle. "If you don't think it would spoil his lunch."

Clarice turned to Hannibal. He nodded his assent.

Clarice returned pleasantly, "Thank you, that would be fine."

The woman took to a knee, unwrapped the treat and held it in front of the boy. "This is for you, young man. You were so well behaved while your family shopped for your party. You're entitled to a treat."

Devyni looked up to his father, his eyes seeking permission.

"You may take it, my son. As a young gentleman, mind your response."

Devyni reached for the treat, holding it aloft. He addressed the woman very formally, "I thank you very much, Miss. It was very kind of you to give me a treat."

Hannibal could see by shock reflected in the woman's expression that his son must have been silent the entire time.

"You seem shocked, you didn't realize he could speak?"

"No, he hadn't said a word other than a brief hello when he first came into the store. I'm amazed by his vocabulary and his manners. How old is he?"

"Clarice, my aunt, and I have been very busy today making the necessary purchases and readying the home. The supplies purchased today are to celebrate his first birthday this weekend. Though young Hannibal is soon to be one year old, he is exceptionally advanced for his age."

Turning momentarily to his son, he questioned, "You didn't speak, Hannibal? Why?"

"Don't speak until you are spoken to. That's a rule for very best behavior. Mommy said if I showed my very best behavior in the stores we could go to the park. You promised we would play together. Are you coming to the park? Will you play with me, Daddy?"

"Yes, my son. We will play together and then we will have lunch at a fine restaurant where you will get many more compliments for your good behavior."

Hannibal returned to the clerk. "As you can see, Master Lecter is a gentleman and takes pride in his good manners."

"And well he should. He's a remarkable boy, a reflection of his family and the quality of his upbringing. You should be very proud, as well." She turned to Clarice and gestured to her blossoming belly. "I'm sure the next baby will be equally brilliant."

Clarice hugged her husband, "Thanks, we really are very proud."

Realizing they'd made enough of an impression, Hannibal thanked the woman and gathered the parcels. When he'd lifted each of the bags, slipping his hands through the handles to accommodate them all, he waved his arm in an exaggerated fashion, bags swinging like bells, as he lovingly commanded, "Andiamo, mia famiglia. Ti portero` in un ristorante per gustare un pasto."

Understanding the sentence, Devyni raised his hand. Hannibal's eyebrow arched.

"Yes, my son?"

"The park before the restaurant, Daddy, please?"

Hannibal laughed heartily, "Yes, of course. To the park!"

* * *

Upon leaving the shop the family visited a local park to allow Hannibal the chance to fulfill the promise of playtime with his son. This included several rousing games daddy-is-a-horse, requiring Hannibal to gallop around the park with his son on his shoulders, the boy's arms tightly wrapped like a bandana, oft-times a blindfold, around his father's head. The family enjoyed this carefree time together, though the purpose was two-fold. This activity was not only for Dev's enjoyment, but for all to hear and see, as well.

When they were all thoroughly exhausted from the activity, they visited a lovely Italian restaurant. The maître d seated Lady Murasaki as Hannibal and his son held the chair for Clarice. Once she was seated, Hannibal secured his son to a small booster at the opposite end of the table, the women flanking him. Hannibal then sat at the head of the table directly across from his son.

Opening the menu, Clarice asked, "What if I don't want pasta, H?"

Hannibal's head tilted slightly as he considered the question. Either it was completely random, or he'd missed the introduction to the conversation. That not being likely, he sought context.

"Pasta, Clarice? I'm not following your train of thought."

"When we were in the shop you said you were taking us to the restaurant to enjoy pasta.

"No, what I said was pasto, not pasta. Pasto means meal."

"Sorry, H…I'm still learning, though not as well as Dev, apparently. He knew exactly what you were saying. He's picking it all up so easily, I feel so bad you have to correct me all the time."

"You are to accept my correction in the spirit of love with which it is offered, Clarice, and as such, no apologies are ever necessary. That you make the attempt at all to learn my mother's native tongue truly humbles me."

Lady Murasaki buttered a small piece of bread and handed it to Devyni. The boy waited patiently for his mother to tie the bib she'd placed around his neck to protect his clothing. He then set the bread on his plate and looked up to his father.

It took a moment for Hannibal to realize what his son was doing.

"You may eat, Hannibal. You needn't wait for others during the bread course, but when the actual meal is served, I shall expect that of you. Until then you may help yourself. Do you understand? May I have your response in Italian, please."

"Si, capisco. Grazie, Babbo."

"Molto buono, eccezionale! Prego, mio figlio."

Clarice glanced up from her menu. A look of what Hannibal believed was pride crossed her face. "Just how many languages do you speak, H?"

He thought the question odd. She'd investigated him more thoroughly than any law enforcement member ever had and as such, knew well how many languages he spoke. A question was simmering though not the one she asked, he thought.

"Several, though not all with the same level of fluency. Many Italian dialects both current and medieval, Latin, French, Lithuanian, Polish, Russian, and thanks to my dear aunt some Japanese as well. I'm functional in Spanish. Of course, English, but you know that, Clarice. Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious as to how many Dev will speak?"

"In addition to the version of American English we speak in the home, I have been teaching him primarily Italian and Lithuanian as we have residences where each language is spoken. Russian and Polish may come later, but are not as necessary to his needs as there has been a shift among the Lithuanian aristocracy. Use of the native language is now much more prevalent. I would like to include French, though I am afraid I will have to brush up on current phrases. Being that I lived in Paris many years my language is fluent and my pronunciation is that of a native, I've not been to France in a good many years. My knowledge of the current colloquial vernacular will not be up to date."

Lady Murasaki very politely joined, "Perhaps I can help my nephew with his French. I've visited many times and have maintained my friendships. My knowledge of the language is current."

"That would be appreciated, thank you."

Setting aside her menu, Clarice leaned toward her husband, questioning quietly, "So, H…your _errands_? Successful?"

Hearing the conversation, Lady Murasaki began counting very softly to Devyni in French, holding her fingers up to illustrate the numbers.

Hannibal noted the interaction. By the timing, his aunt was attempting to allow he and Clarice time to speak without the chance of the boy overhearing the conversation. A slight nod of the head and a smile expressed his thanks. The return of a demure smile paired with the lowering of her head illustrated her unadulterated pleasure with the gesture.

Clarice continued her clandestine questioning, "Did you have any problems or complications I need to be aware of?"

"Nothing of any consequence." Smiling at her careful wording designed preserve the covert nature of the conversation, he answered similarly, "Though, I did witness one unfortunate soul pass. Car accident."

By her powerfully concentrated expression, Hannibal immediately understood Clarice was trying to work out any number of options. As much as he enjoyed the machinations of any mind, hers truly captured his imagination. He watched with rapt attention as she silently assessed theories, her expression so intense it was as if he could see the neurons firing, chemical lights flashing possibilities within her minds-eye.

_You are so very brilliant, my Clarice._ _Are you attempting to piece together how I might be able to kill someone while a car was being driven without a scratch left to my person?_ _Shall I leave you to stew or alleviate your boundless curiosity?_

Enjoying the quizzical expression illustrating her disquiet, he allowed a moment for her to process the logistics.

_Will you ask or will you simmer until we get home? I doubt you have the patience for that, Clarice. You are capable of verbal stealth…form the question and I shall answer._

She did not disappoint.

"How, H? The car was…driving?"

Wanting to draw out the suspense as he did enjoy wheedling her now and then, he framed the response to be intentionally ambiguous. It would require an additional inquiry.

"No, Clarice, the car was falling."

"_Falling?" _

The utter incredulity in her tone followed by her silence told Hannibal that Clarice wouldn't ask another question. She wouldn't dare ask for additional details in public.

Arms crossed, eyebrows tightly knitted, she glared at her husband.

_Angry? Maybe. Frustrated? Yes. She's dissatisfied with my response._

"Not in the mood to play, my Love?"

"Not about this, H."

"Very well." Knowing he could offer some detail without compromising the situation, Hannibal offered, "It would seem the gentleman was working beneath the car and inadvertently placed the jack in the wrong position."

Clarice leaned in very close. She and Hannibal now a mere two inches apart as she whispered, "Was the position of the jack too far from the repair?"

Mouth turning upward, curling slowly into a deviously wicked smile, Hannibal leaned so close his lips touched his wife's ear. In a very low whisper, he hissed playfully, "No, my Love, the position of the jack was too close to my foot."

Bursting with laughter in an obvious attempt to avoid drawing undue attention, Clarice lowered her head to Hannibal's shoulder, hers shaking with the laughter she was obviously attempting to contain.

Hannibal wrapped his arms around her, gently stroking her back. Holding her as she attempted to rein in her amusement, he commented, "That is one of the things I most love about you. We share the same appreciation for gallows humor."

When she'd contained herself, Clarice sat back in her seat, Hannibal still holding her left hand in his right for support.

With his right hand he deftly retrieved a silken handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his wife.

Gently dabbing the fabric to her still tearing eyes she stammered quietly between her stifled giggles, "You…kill me…H."

Lifting her hand to his lips, Hannibal kissed the inside of her wrist, assuring with a wicked glint in his eye, "Virtually anyone else, Clarice, but never you. Never you."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	47. Chapter 47

**A brief author's note: to Crazy Chemist, you have pm's turned off, therefore I cannot respond to your reviews. I wanted to offer you my thanks for your dedication :)**

**HANNIBAL'S EQUAL**

Having promised his wife he would attend to his meal without impacting his family, Hannibal neither intended to cook nor consume the liver in their presence. Instead, he cooked and served their meal in the dining room and sat quietly at the head of the table sipping wine, conversing with them as they ate. His son, in what appeared to be a boy's effort to impress his father, made a very large production of swallowing every bit of the food in his mouth before he attempted to join the conversation. When the last morsel had been consumed, young Hannibal raised his hand.

"Excuse me, Daddy?"

Having watched the scene play out, Hannibal wondered what might be working within the boy's mind. If he were to judge the import by the expression on his son's face he would think it a matter of national security. Ever curious, Hannibal turned his body to face Devyni, giving his full attention. "Yes, my son?"

Gesturing to the large platters and bowls containing the excess from the family meal, the boy questioned with a tone Hannibal identified as concern, "Even though it is called a highchair, my chair isn't high enough to see. Is there any more food in the serving bowls on the table?"

No doubt as surprised as Hannibal by the comment, Clarice and Lady Murasaki stopped their side conversation and began to watch the interaction.

Impressed by his son's attention to detail, Hannibal smiled.

_Always watching. So much like your mother, my clever boy._

"Yes, my son, the bowls are amply filled. Would you like something added to your plate?"

Readying to assist, Clarice reached for a serving spoon, but a low rumble of disapproval from her husband stayed her hand. He didn't want the moment impacted or the child's thought processes to be altered by extraneous movements. Instead, father remained silent, waiting for his son to process his thoughts. It didn't take the boy long.

"No, thank you, Daddy."

Hannibal looked upon his son with pride. Though the boy stopped speaking, his furrowed brow broadcast the fact that his thoughts were still churning. Young Hannibal lifted his spoon. Shifting the silverware back and forth, he moved the spoon to alter the position and shape of the reflection it cast on the table.

The boy might be thinking of any number of things, so, curious as to the many possibilities, Hannibal prodded, "Do you have an additional question that remains unasked?"

Holding the spoon in front of his face, young Hannibal noticed his own reflection in the bowl of the spoon. Moving the spoon closer to his face, further and closer once more, the boy seemed to be evaluating how movement and distance affected the morphed image. His eyes fully fixed on the bowl of the spoon, the toddler replied, "Additional question? I am uncertain."

_Attending to more than one train of thought. I am cautiously impressed, my son. Your vocabulary is exceptional, but let us see if you process as any average child or as the amalgam of your mother and my own intellects that I believe you to be._

"My son, if you require clarity, you alone must seek the information. I will not offer that which is not requested."

The boy continued to speak even as he considered his reflection in his spoon.

"I don't wish to pry. The question might be perceived as rude and that is not my intent."

Now fully aware there was an unspoken thought, Hannibal pursued, "You used the word, pry. The connotation of your word choice infers the information must be extracted with a measure of difficulty. You need no leverage here. I understand you mean no disrespect, therefore I will not consider your inquiry rude. Ask your question and you will have your answer."

Setting the spoon on the table the boy lifted his eyes, seeking his father's, "Knowing the bowls are filled my next question would be, have all of the dishes been washed, or, more specifically, are there dishes and bowls that are available for use?"

Though he believed he understood his son's meaning, Hannibal avoided the temptation of answering unasked questions.

"Be specific, Hannibal. Are you speaking of dishes at this table other than the ones that are currently in use or are you inquiring about tableware in another location?"

The boy looked across the table, glanced toward the kitchen, and back to the dining room table once more. "I am speaking of the additional dishes you store in the kitchen cupboard, not the ones currently being used."

"In that case, the answer is yes. They are all washed and there are both dishes and bowls available for use. What are your thoughts on the matter?"

"If there is ample food, and there are dishes available for your use, why are you not eating? Don't we always eat together, Daddy?"

"Yes, we do for the most part, eat together, but Daddy will be having something different tonight which I will prepare after you've gone to sleep. I am enjoying my wine as you all enjoy your meal because I wish to remain in your company."

"With whom will you eat?"

"This evening I shall dine alone."

"I don't want to think of you dining alone, Daddy. The thought of it makes me sad. I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep."

Clarice placed her palm on her son's back, smoothing her hand up and down, comforting, "Don't worry, Dev, I'll sit with Daddy as he eats. He won't be alone."

"That isn't necessary, Clarice. I don't wish to expose you to this particular meal."

"Just because I won't share your meal, H, doesn't mean I have a problem sitting with you as you enjoy a late supper."

"As you wish, my Love. I would never refuse your company."

The answer seemed to satisfy the boy.

"Thank you, Mommy. I feel much better knowing Daddy won't be eating alone."

Turning to his father, young Hannibal continued his line of questioning. "Daddy? Excuse me, and, again, if my question seems discourteous I apologize, but why are you going to eat something different from the rest of the family?"

"It is not rude or ill-mannered to be curious, Hannibal. I am eating separate from the family because my meal would not be to your taste and I do not wish to offend."

"How was that determined?"

Not specific enough. Father once more questioned his son.

"How was what determined? That the meal would not be to your taste or that it might cause offense?"

Young Hannibal closed his eyes momentarily as if the answer to the question might be lurking behind his eyelids. When, finally, he opened his eyes, he outlined carefully, "How has it been decided the meal wouldn't be to our liking if we haven't tasted the food? Did you determine that it would not be to our taste? If you enjoy it, because we are both boys, I might enjoy it as well. I've never disliked the meals you've prepared for me. Perhaps it is something girls don't enjoy, but boys do. Might I sample the meal and decide for myself?"

Hannibal lowered his head and smiled. His son's reasoning was exceedingly difficult to counter. The boy's genius, curiosity and intellectual capacity had been multiplying exponentially. His only limit seemed to be his level of experience.

"I don't believe girls and boys have vastly different palates, my son, though I am very pleased to know you enjoy the meals I've prepared."

"Forgive my ignorance. What is a palate?"

"Forgiveness is not necessary if one is unfamiliar with a term. Never be embarrassed to request information, my son. The palate is both the roof of your mouth and your personal taste aesthetic. It is that which determines what your likes and dislikes might be in regards to food and drink."

"It is that part of my body which decides whether or not I will enjoy the taste of something?"

"Yes, that is part of it, though your tongue and your nose are also involved. You will find that your taste will change, maturing and evolving over time. You will enjoy the taste of many more foods as an adult that you might not currently favor."

"I may not enjoy this meal you will prepare?"

"You may or may not."

"It is not a certainty that I wouldn't enjoy this new food?"

"No, it is not a certainty."

"It isn't a certainty that I would dislike the food, you enjoy that which you are going to prepare and I am very willing to sample this meal, yet I have been prohibited?"

"Yes, that is true."

"Then someone has made the determination for me."

"Yes."

The boy leaned his elbows on the tray of his highchair. Burying his face within his tiny dimpled hands, for a moment he appeared lost in thought.

The adults at the table shared the incredulity of the moment, but none spoke. The young boy was working his way through his thoughts. They would give him the necessary time to reflect.

After two or three minutes, Devyni lifted his head from his hands and faced his father once more.

"Excuse me, Daddy?"

"Yes, my son?"

"Mommy is very protective of me. More so than you, I think."

"It is Mommy's nature to protect, yes."

"Has Mommy determined, as a way to protect me, that it is not appropriate for me to consume your food?"

"No. Even if Mommy agreed to allow you a taste, I would be against it."

"You alone have made that decision?"

"Yes. I, alone, am making the decision, though your mother is in agreement."

Devyni turned to his mother, entreating, "Mommy? Do you agree with Daddy's decision?"

The boy was more than precocious. He was getting to the essence of the decision and weighing every response. His brilliance erupted with each rebuttal. Clarice smiled. "Yes, Dev. I wholeheartedly agree with Daddy."

"Wholeheartedly? Mommy, that is an uncommon superlative in relation to a simple dinner choice." Devyni turned his attention to his father, looking at the man for an extended period of time, deciding, "You try very hard to take exceptional care of me, don't you Daddy?"

Tilting his head as he considered the thought, Hannibal responded, "I make every effort to be certain all of your physical and emotional needs are met, yes."

_Ah, you are on to something. Where are you taking this, my magnificent boy?_

Copying his father's gesture, young Hannibal, too, inclined his head.

With a wide smile Hannibal recognized this mimicking of his own habit, a reflection, he assessed, of the boy's love.

As he watched his father, young Hannibal, head still cocked at an exaggerated, almost awkward angle, questioned, "And do you consider my feelings when you make such determinations?"

"Yes, when it is possible to do so, I make a concerted effort to consider how my decisions will affect your feelings. Why do you ask?"

The awkward tilt of the head must have proved uncomfortable. The boy craned his neck as he straightened. Considering the wording very thoughtfully, he spoke in earnest, "Because I am feeling very left out and quite sorry for myself at this moment. Knowing how much you love me and consider me in all things, I wondered if my feelings might impact your decision."

Not wanting to either embarrass or discourage the boy, Hannibal squelched a chuckle, confirming with pleasant but steadfast resolve, "Though I love you more than my own life, not in this, my brilliant boy."

"You think me brilliant yet your opinion is unchanged? Do you believe it is an unreasonable request that I would like share the same meal or taste the food for myself and judge whether or not I would find it enjoyable?"

"I do not believe the request is unreasonable, no, but that it is a sound and persuasive argument will not affect my decision."

"Any more than my feelings will affect your judgment?"

"That is correct."

Devyni stared ahead at his father. Blinking once, he concluded, "Thank you for your answers, Daddy. As always, you've been most helpful."

Hannibal expected further discussion and was surprised at how quickly the boy dropped the subject.

"You are quite welcome, Hannibal. Are you upset with me for denying you the opportunity to share my meal?"

"Not any longer, no."

"Explain."

"You are my father. You love me more than your own life, you tend to my needs and you take my feelings into consideration attending to such when it is practical to do so. You aren't changing your mind even though my argument has been sound and you think me brilliant. I appreciate that you took the time to listen as I attempted to convince you. You are an adult and I am a child. You could have dismissed my concerns without response. That you didn't shows you care about my feelings. That you haven't changed your mind must mean it either isn't safe, or isn't practical to consider those feelings in this matter."

"A very intelligent and sound restatement of the facts. And what have you concluded based on that determination?"

"That you have information as to the source of the food or the manner in which it was prepared that you do not wish, for whatever reason, to share with me."

"Yes, that is it precisely. How do you feel about that?"

"I have no feelings about it either way. You are my father. I love you very much and I trust you want only the best for me. If you don't think I should have a particular food I will eat what is provided and will not worry myself with what is not provided. My dinner is delicious, Daddy. Thank you for going to the trouble of preparing it for me."

"You are more than welcome, my son. Have you finished your meal?"

"Yes, my belly is quite full. If you aren't eating, could we ask Mommy to be excused? I would like you take me to my room and read with me."

"I would love to read with you, Hannibal. Ask Mommy if we may be excused from the table."

"Mommy, may Daddy and I please be excused?"

Nodding, Clarice responded, "Of course you may be excused. I'm sure Daddy would love to read to you!"

"We are going to read to each other, Mommy. I don't want Daddy to read everything. I won't have any fun that way."

"But Daddy uses so many voices when he reads! Doesn't that make it more fun?"

"I hear voices in my head as I read and I see pictures as well. I don't need someone to do it for me. I enjoy when Daddy reads, but I can do it for myself."

"Of course you can, my son. Come. Daddy will read with you, not to you."

Hannibal lifted his son from the highchair and set the boy down on the ground. Holding hands, the pair left the room together.

Clarice looked at Lady Murasaki.

"What did you think about that? A little scary, wasn't it?"

"Scary? In what way?"

"He's scary smart."

"He is his father's son."

"He said he was going to read. Is that even possible?"

"I'm certain he does read. He's corrected me on more than a few occasions."

"Yeah, me too, but I just thought he'd memorized the book."

"If he is anything like his father, he won't have to memorize a thing. He'll simply tuck the thought in a corner of his mind and access it when needed."

"Did H read early?"

"No one could figure out exactly when he began to read. He was never actively taught. It was as if he simply knew how. I don't remember a time when he couldn't read."

"Even at Dev's age?"

"Yes. Even at Dev's age. You will not be able to judge Hannibal's son against normal children."

"If not other children, who will I be able to judge him against?"

"His only equal. Hannibal himself."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	48. Chapter 48

**CONFLAGRATION**

Hannibal very meticulously assembled his plate ladling a healthy measure of mushrooms, onions and bacon over the perfectly prepared liver. Reaching within a separate pan, Hannibal lifted a piece of bacon with his fingertips, and turning, tapped the crispy bit of meat against his wife's lips.

She smirked. He winked.

"Not to worry. I used a different pan to prepare your bacon, my Love. I would never tempt you with person-tainted pork."

Laughing, Clarice opened her mouth and accepted the offering. Joining Hannibal in the dining room she carried the wine and two glasses, his empty and hers filled with ice water. Lady Murasaki chose not to join them, instead watching a favored film allowing that Hannibal and Clarice deserved time alone.

Clarice sat across from her husband at the opposite end of the table not beside him, as was her custom. She smiled politely and poured his wine reaching across the table to pass him the glass. She then sat quietly, sipping ice water as he began to eat his risotto.

_Several minutes have passed and still there is no conversation, Clarice? Unusual. You don't seem upset yet I'm sensing heightened tension. You're alert, anxious about something? Is it the food I am preparing to consume or something else entirely? How wonderful that after all this time you remain a mystery to me. How precious you are to me, my Clarice…_

Watching he wondered what her neutral expression shielded. Of anyone he knew, aside from himself, she had the best poker face. Her facial expression and demeanor were often not at all aligned with her physiology. To Hannibal, tonight especially, she was absolutely unreadable.

Breathing deeply he sought her scent over the steaming plate just beneath his nose. Separating each aroma, he found hers. Her scent definitely indicated upset, though he could not place the source. That and her silence finally elicited the question, "What are you thinking, Clarice?"

She looked up and he saw a flash of something he could not put his finger on.

"My Love? Are you ill?"

His wife looked up and with a hint of distance, perhaps distraction, in her voice, responded, "Hmm? Did you say something, H?"

Setting his fork and knife aside, Hannibal dropped his hands to his lap, smoothing them over the napkin resting on his thighs.

Looking to his wife he noted that her arms were folded across her chest. She leaned back in her chair. More distance. He didn't like her body language.

"You are sitting very silently and very far from me, my Love and that is not your custom. Normally we sit side-by-side and converse at table. May I ask why you are altering convention?"

"I don't know. I didn't really give it much thought but if it bothers you, I can move closer."

_Proximity isn't a concern._

"That isn't necessary. I was merely curious."

Lifting the cutlery he dragged the blade across the organ slicing through the liver still warm from the sauté pan. Realizing it had been in a man's body not half a day ago, the thought of it amused him. Considering his wife's behavior her silence led him to believe she was not as entertained by the thought as he. Or perhaps she was ill. Her pregnancy might be posing a problem. By now, with Devyni, she'd experienced dramatic complications. The thought was cause for concern.

"Clarice, if you'd rather not sit with me, my aunt is watching television. You are most welcome to join her. I assure you I shall not feel slighted."

She sipped the water. "I'd rather watch you eat an entire man than sit through another lame romantic comedy. I don't find silly chick flicks even remotely amusing and to be honest I'm surprised she's entertained by that sort of thing."

"She was born and raised in Hiroshima, Japan and as you can imagine from her birthplace, she has had a very difficult life. Perhaps a little mindless levity relieves the burden of her past."

She spun her glass in circles. The incessant swirling within her now-empty glass caused the ice cubes to clatter within the bowl of the vessel. Almost hypnotized Clarice watched the action. Though the cacophonous rattling unhinged him slightly, Hannibal remained silent.

As if she'd just awakened to the conversation, Clarice commented, "I'm sorry, H, you're probably right. Can I ask you a question?"

Seeking levity, he teased with a wink, "I believe you just did."

Not responding to the joke, Clarice set down her glass and complained, "Don't be such a wiseass, H, you know what I mean!"

"I did not intend to raise your ire, Clarice. If you have a question there is no need to preface it. What is on your mind?"

The words poured from her mouth, flowing with the same speed and recklessness of water spilled from an upended pitcher.

Babbling, she spouted, "Dev is on my mind…I mean…what the hell, H? He just started talking, what, three months ago and now his grammar and vocabulary are better than mine? What is the hell is that all about? I don't get it. First he's my beautiful baby boy and now he's what? It's…it's…scary."

Caught entirely off-guard Hannibal Lecter closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply seeking to center himself.

_There is disappointment in her tone._

"He is my son, Clarice. What more can I say?"

Hannibal watched as his statement caused his wife to absolutely combust. Animated with anger she leaned forward, her voice raised, her retort severe as she attacked, "_That's it?_ That's your _only_ answer? He's that way because he's _your_ son? Well guess what, H? He's my goddamned son, too! And that talking, that kind of vocabulary? What the hell happened to my baby? He's only a year old for Christ's sake!"

"The boy is not a baby. You are carrying your baby. _Our_ baby. And yes, he is very much like I was as a child but is more advanced because I have been working with him, teaching him. You do know I spend hours alone with the boy, Clarice. What did you think I was doing with him?"

Her color changed, red flushing her cheeks as obvious frustration spread across her face. She shook in her chair, clutching at the armrests, simmering, "I don't fucking know what you were doing. Whatever the hell dads do with little boys. Catch bugs or something."

Hannibal hoped he might be able to refocus his wife's attention. Surely she would have considered any child from their pairing would be exceptional. The boy's highly advanced reasoning most likely caught her by surprise.

"_Catch bugs?_ Really Clarice? Unless young Hannibal has a question regarding Entomology or taxonomy, that is hardly likely. As to what I have been doing, I have been advancing his education. At this stage of development his mind is a sponge, my Love. He retains everything he sees and hears. If something is explained, he will remember it. What you saw from our son today not frightening, it is inspirational. It is a combination of our genetic gifts and the fruits of our parental labor."

"He remembers _everything?"_

"Yes. Absolutely everything. That is the reason he's advancing so quickly. If you are impressed with his English, you should hear his Latin. By the time most children are ready for kindergarten, our son will be ready for university."

"How do you know he can do that, H? He's not a fucking science experiment. Maybe you're pushing him too hard. I just want him to be my little boy. My _normal_ little boy."

Normal. The comments struck a cord.

"_Normal?_ You want the boy to be normal? What does that mean? By extension, you must see me as abnormal. I was the youngest student ever to be accepted to medical school and that was without benefit of adequate nutrition or formal education for many years. With our assistance, the boy's potential is limitless. As I said, Clarice, he is my son. He is _our _son."

Hannibal watched for any changes in his wife's appearance very closely. He could see by her expression that the hot molten lava of her rage had cooled but it was now set like stone.

_Her mind is unchanged._

"I'm really worried, H. I don't want him to be…maladjusted."

"_Maladjusted?_ That is both an intriguing and incendiary word choice. I cannot begin to fathom either the emotion or intent lurking behind that statement, Clarice. "

"What? Why? I'm concerned about our son."

"Is that all there is to it? I am unconvinced."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Perhaps your concern stems from the fact that you are currently sitting across from your husband watching with a vacant expression as he prepares to consume another man's flesh."

"Oh, fuck you, H! Don't you go putting that bullshit on me!"

"Where else shall I place it, Clarice? Our son is gifted beyond compare. One would think his brilliance would be a source of maternal pride, yet you are anxious and angry. Combative even. Either it is because I fail to see the need for concern or because you see me as the source of the problem that your anger is being aimed in my direction. You believe his gifts will make him maladjusted. I have exactly the same gifts. If I were to further extrapolate from your inference, I am left to deduce, based on your comment, that you find me in some way flawed. Maladjusted, as you said. That I have passed an unwanted aberration either through my DNA, my interpersonal relationship with the boy or both, it would seem that you believe I have introduced an undesirable defect to our son."

Shaking her head, Clarice stopped. "H…I… didn't say that."

"It is precisely what you said."

"I didn't…I didn't say that…not that…never…never that…"

Hannibal pushed his plate away from his body. Crossing his arms on the table, he leaned forward. His voice was edged with hurt and anger.

"Why do you believe it is necessary to speak the thoughts aloud? You spoke the word maladjusted loud and clear. Trust me when I say nothing else need be said as the look in your eyes spoke volumes. There is nothing I can do now aside from killing our son that will alter about my genetic impact on his development, Clarice. Had I known this would be your reaction, I would have suggested months ago that you abort our daughter, as it is likely she will be similarly gifted. I'm sorry if that thought brings you pain. You want normal? I'm Hannibal Lecter. I don't _do_ normal."

"H…H…I…"

The phone began ringing, interrupting the argument.

"It is nine o'clock. That will be Ardelia for your nightly conversation. Perhaps you will find some comfort discussing her upcoming wedding. No doubt you now regret yours."

"No, H! No! That's not true! It's not! She can wait. We have to talk about this."

Standing so quickly the action seemed violent, Hannibal breeched from his seat, the backs of his knees snapping backward, forcing the chair aside. Stepping away from the table, he growled, "Irregardless of your feelings, Clarice, my part in this conversation has come to an end. If you'll excuse me, I find I've lost my appetite."

Hannibal cracked his napkin like a bullwhip, draping it over his forearm. He then gathered his silverware and lifted his still-filled dish from the table. Turning his back to his wife he abruptly left the room.

Running closely behind, Clarice followed him to the kitchen watching him scrape the entire dinner into a box.

Seeing her beside him, the phone once more ringing, Hannibal lifted the handset from the cradle and without answering, pushed the phone across the counter to Clarice.

"Tend to your friend."

Activating the handset, Clarice whispered, "I'll call you back." Without waiting for an answer, she disconnected the call, setting the phone on the cradle once more. As if here husband had the sensitivity of a skittish young colt that might bolt at any second Clarice reached out a cautious hand to signal her approach. Placing that hand on the center of Hannibal's back, she very slowly smoothed her palm up and down his back.

Rejecting the contact, his body shuddered at the touch. Instead of leaning or turning into her touch, he aggressively rolled his shoulders shaking off the contact. He turned to the side and stepped away, backing against the wall as he advised, "That may work with young Hannibal, Clarice, but know that while our intellectual capacity may be equal, I am not as easily pacified as my son."

"We need to talk, H."

"No. _You_ need to talk. I am in no mood to entertain the conversation. Excuse me. I'm going out."

She stepped closer. His quickly upraised hand held her at bay.

"I must go. Now."

"Where, H?"

"I must dispose of the remnants of this meal away from the home."

"But you barely touched it, H…Please. Let's go to the table. We can talk while you finish. I don't think you even tasted the liver."

"You are correct I did not taste it, but that doesn't matter. I find that I have lost my appetite."

"H…please…don't…don't do this."

Again, the phone began to ring.

"Your friend wishes to talk to you, Clarice. At this particular moment, I find that I do not."

Lifting the container with the remains of Chavez stowed neatly within, Hannibal moved around his wife careful not to make physical contact.

Clarice stepped in front of Hannibal, momentarily blocking his passage.

Hannibal lifted the phone from the cradle, activated the handset and placed it on the breakfast bar. He lifted his arms, holding his hands over his head. Ignoring the physical distance implied, Clarice wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

"When are you coming home?"

"Home? Is it?"

"Of course it's your home. It's our home."

"Home is not only one's residence, but also a place where one feels loved and accepted."

"You know I love you and accept you, H."

"Allow me to leave, Clarice. I don't wish to speak to this subject any longer. Ardelia is waiting."

"Okay, H…okay."

Realizing he wouldn't budge and her friend could hear their conversation, Clarice released her husband and answered the phone.

As she spoke Hannibal stepped around his wife and carried the container from the room.

Rushing toward panel in the main foyer, Hannibal disarmed the security system and slipped out the front door. Careful to lock and arm the system, he rushed off into the night. He didn't think he'd be implicated in the earlier crime, but if he were suspect, possession of the liver would convict him. The container he carried held not only the uneaten portion, but the sinews and trimmings as well. The DNA could be tracked to Chavez, and as such, would have to be fully incinerated.

Finding a remote location, Hannibal dug a pit, built a fire within the depression and tossed the parcel into the fire. Watching the flames devour his uneaten meal, he quietly assessed his physical state. Anger simmered like the meat sizzling within the flames. He imagined hellfire, the conflagration mirroring within his maroon irises, licking at the edges like pools of lava teeming in a whirlpool around his coal-black pupils. He was strangely aware of his heart.

_Maladjusted…_

If he were the type of man whose emotional state was tied to such comments, he supposed he would be devastated by his wife's remark. Yes, he was agitated, and it was true that his heart was beating with more speed and force than was the norm, but he was far from devastated.

The evidence now fully consumed, he hacked at the piles of dirt, the process cathartic as he filled the hole to cover any trace of his presence.

Without another thought, Hannibal Lecter ventured out into the night. Alone.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	49. Chapter 49

**REVERENCE**

Making his way to the Cervelli ranch, Hannibal parked his car just over a mile from the site. After the heated exchange with Clarice he needed to center himself and the time running alone in the night would help. Taking a bag from the trunk he quickly changed his clothing, laced up a pair of running shoes, and set out for what would look, to anyone else, like a recreational evening jog. As each foot struck the ground, Hannibal pondered the disagreement with his wife.

_I know you love me, Clarice. Perhaps this is a case of your hormones and my pride colliding? You have a way of upending my calm like no other, but that is why I love you. You stir me in ways I never thought possible…my Love… _

Clarice was present on his mind as if she were running in step with him. Barely a sweat breaking across his brow, he reached the outer edges of the Cervelli Ranch and stalked through the outlying pines. Visiting the barn, he removed a horse draping a small skeletal figure over the latch of the stall door. If Cervelli entered the barn and noticed the missing animal he would understand by the reference to San La Muerta that Hannibal had the animal. The symbol would insure the police would not be notified. In any event, Cervelli was most likely at the hospital with his daughter.

Entering the tack room Hannibal bypassed the English riding tack he favored for the Argentinian recado criollo. Grateful he was familiar with the technique of passing the cinch over the leather saddle top he made certain to include the cojinillo and the sobrepuesto. Lifting several boleadoras from a hook he secured them to the saddle as well. The rigging was authentic. Not something a foreigner would chose given the options present.

_I am fortunate you have the trappings of the gaucho, Mr. Cervelli. This will come in quite handy. Perhaps one of your unwanted guests would enjoy playing cowboy? Not that I will give him the option of refusing…_

Riding the horse through the more densely wooded area he searched for just the right branch within the pine stand. Taking a moment to enjoy the surroundings Hannibal was at peace. He would return home renewed and Clarice would feel his ease.

_Every threat will be eliminated to ease your mind, Clarice. Our family will be protected. I must find the perfect limb…strong, sturdy…like you, my Love._

It was a warm night. Sixty-degrees Fahrenheit was a bit higher than the evening norms for April but enjoyable nonetheless. Hannibal searched for this perfect bough. It had to be old enough to snap freely from its joint when a burst of pressure was applied, but sturdy enough to provide the desired effect. After an hour-long and highly intensive search he came upon the perfect branch. Wrapping the limb with a saddle blanket to avoid ligature marks he tied a rope around the neatly covered branch. Using the saddle itself to anchor the rope, Hannibal engaged his legs to urge the horse forward. The animal tugged until it felt resistance from the branch. The moment the line was taut the animal paused.

_Come beauty, you'll need to try harder than that...shall I inspire your efforts?_

Hannibal reached back, snapping a riding crop against the animal's hindquarters. The snap and sting of the whip caused the horse to rise up, front hooves clapping together.

_So much spirit for one so old...we are kindred spirits, I think._

Hannibal gathered the reins and popped the crop once more. This time the horse bolted, surging forward like a racehorse bursting forth from the gate. As was Hannibal's intention, the animal's motion yanked the branch, snapping in one quick tug.

_Perhaps one of you will be foolish enough to stumble upon the spider's web. If so, I shall be ready._

Riding the horse to the edge of the woods hidden from view of the building, Hannibal swung his leg over the saddle. Sliding from the wide back of the animal he slipped over the smooth coat as if gliding down a slide. Carrying the thick, rough limb, he hid it in a spot on the side of the building opposite the trailer the men were loading. This now prepared, there were three more things he needed to achieve before his final move against the gang.

_If they are loading their product I am running out of time. Risks must be taken. Not something of which I am particularly fond, but there is little choice. Alena remains an unknown entity. Hopefully, time is my only enemy._

Yes. There was Alena. He'd be forced to deal with that as well. Not tonight. Tonight it would be necessary to check the status of the pen to confirm all remained unchanged. On the next visit he would bait the trap. It would have to be tempting. Extremely tempting and very specific if his detailed plan was to succeed.

_My Love, will you remember night we hunted together? _

Entering the structure on the furthest side from the men, Hannibal first checked the stall with the welded metal hoop. The scent of half-eaten food and the remnants of sexual congress burned his nostrils. It was in foul condition, but the items he needed remained.

_Thus far, all is well. _

He pushed through the scattered hay lining the floor and tucked an item in between the slats of the stall along the base just beneath the welded hoop.

_In the event you forget me…_

Using a small handful of bundled hay, he brushed some dirt over the object. Satisfied it was concealed, he climbed the ladder and entered the loft.

Balancing like a circus performer walking a tightrope, he gracefully stepped out onto the exposed metal girder spanning and placed one foot very carefully in front of the other. Arms extended for balance, he swiftly and silently crossed the large support beam to the other side of the loft. He was now very near the entrance the men were using. From this vantage point he could watch for the opportunity to make his move. The workers were no more that twenty feet below but didn't notice the deadly threat hovering in the darkness above them.

"Raphael! Omar! Load the first container. We have to get it ready for shipment by the end of the week. It must reach the dock with the alpaca merchandise and animals. The veterinary paperwork is very specific. There can be no delays."

Raphael stood obediently and began loading a flatbed with large bricks of product tightly wrapped within cellophane. Omar leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms and tucked his legs within the slats of a stall rail making quite a show of his intent not to help. He groused, "Why should we load the trailer? Chavez disappears just when the heavy lifting starts? Lazy bastard goes out with his whore for a two-day orgy and we get stuck with the work. How is that fair?"

Kicking Omar's legs from the slatted support, Mario hovered over Omar. Unlike Chavez, his voice boomed with authority as he warned, "Who told you your life was gonna be fair? Get up and help load the merchandise or get the hell out. I don't care either way, I'm sick to death of playing wet-nurse!"

Mario circled the chair, gripped the rung of the seatback and heaved upward, brusquely dumping Omar in a heap to the cement flooring before continuing, "And before you go shooting off your mouth, maybe you should remember that whore is the reason her father didn't turn us all in to the cops. So just do what you're told and close your mouth or you'll wind up like the stupid bastards Chavez killed because they were stupid to take her. She waves her little finger and people die. You act like you want be the next stupid bastard in line. If you want to die, go outside and do it alone."

_Yes, dear Omar. Go outside._

Leaping to his feet as if he'd been launched from a cannon, Omar charged forward colliding with Mario, their chests battering like ram's horns.

Hannibal mused that the sound was as hollow and dull as their collective minds.

Unfazed by the action, stepping back, Mario swung his arm wide and slapped Omar across the face.

"Get out you lazy bastard. Chavez will deal with you when he gets back. I'm not babysitting anymore."

Hannibal gripped a beam, leaning to get a better look. Inhaling deeply, he began to categorize the scent of each man present. He sought Omar's especially.

Fists tightly bundled at his side, Omar raised on his toes, threatening, "Don't you dare touch me again!"

Raphael dropped the bundle he carried and hurried to his friend's side. Gripping Omar's upper arm, he tugged the man backward.

"Please, Omar! Stop! Just go home. Don't do anything foolish."

This intervention gave Mario the opportunity to reach behind his back and tug a pistol free from his waistband. Placing the cool barrel of the gun to Omar's forehead, he warned, "Go home, before I lose my patience. If I have to look at your worthless face any longer, instead of slapping it, I'll put a bullet between your eyes and be done with you."

Omar glared, his body vibrating with what Hannibal's senses told him was fear, though the man appeared as if he might attack.

_Your scent betrays you…you are all bravado, my friend. Your early departure is fortuitous. It would seem I have found this night's target. _

Raphael continued to intercede on behalf of his hotheaded friend. Waving a wild hand he signaled surrender.

"No, Mario, please. He's going home. He's going home."

Pulling Omar from the barrel of the gun, Raphael dragged the man toward the door and pushed him outside.

"Go home to your wife and have her calm you. You have too much to lose. Don't let foolish pride stand in your way. This is not the time to be thickheaded or prideful. Your family needs this money. Dead men collect nothing."

Raphael quickly pulled the door closed before Omar could argue.

_Go home to your wife and have her calm you. My Clarice..._

* * *

The distraction was precisely what Hannibal needed. While the assembled stood gape-mouthed at Omar's insolence, he scampered down the makeshift rope ladder dangling from the back of the loft. Hannibal slipped out of doors taking to the ground quickly, his exit from the building fully undetected. Running to the far side of the building he retrieved the large branch he'd hidden and carried it to the far side of the structure. Scuttling between the parked cars he wouldn't have long to wait for Omar to appear.

_Which vehicle is yours, I wonder?_

Downwind of the man, Hannibal breathed deeply to isolate the scent of each vehicle moving with deadly efficiency until he tracked the man's scent to a specific vehicle.

Omar trudged ever closer, ranting as he walked.

"That motherfucker! Bad enough Chavez! Now every asshole thinks they're in charge! Point a gun at me and I'll stick a blade in your goddamned ribs. I'll show him he's not in charge of a motherfucking thing!"

Omar stomped his feet as he walked, the gait of a petulant toddler seeking attention as he tramped around the building to the area on the side where his car was parked.

Hannibal listened. There was another sound. Metal against fabric.

_Proving a point with no one to watch? Your unrestrained aggression saves me the trouble of searching your stained trousers. _

The noises Omar was making assisted Hannibal greatly. He was able to mark exactly where the man was positioned with each step.

_Closer…Cloooser…_

Hannibal's head rose from behind the parked car.

Omar gasped.

"Well hello, Omar."

Swinging the branch like a baseball bat Hannibal cracked the limb across the man's face, dropping him like a ton of bricks.

* * *

Clarice, still upset, joined Lady Murasaki in the family room.

The elegant older woman looked up from the needlepoint boar with a cheerful smile. "So, is Hannibal enjoying the fruits of his labor?"

Sitting in her husband's chair Clarice bent her knees to her chest and hugged her legs tightly to her body. Her nostrils flared as she gathered the air around her. She could smell him here. Comfort.

"No. He's…gone."

Not overly concerned, Hannibal's aunt set her needlepoint primly on her lap and sought clarity.

"Gone? I don't understand. Didn't the meal just begin?"

Thighs pressed tightly to her chest, Clarice rested her chin on her knees and said, "I…I upset him. I don't know if he'll be back tonight."

Lady Murasaki once more lifted her project, her eyes fixed on the needle piercing the fabric, she affirmed with confidence, "He'll return tonight. He's lost too much in his life. He won't allow the sun to rise tomorrow with anger between you. I offer you my ear, though I'll understand if you don't want to speak of it."

Clarice released her grip on her legs and set her feet on the floor. Turning toward Hannibal's aunt, the younger woman leaned on the arm of the chair, urging, "I'd like your opinion if you don't mind. I don't want you to betray any confidences, but…"

Continuing to pass the needle through the fabric without lifting her eyes, she stated simply, "There are no confidences. Only the lives we have lived."

"I said some things that I'm sure upset him. He thinks I regret marrying him…regret having his children. I don't…I don't…it's just…he is so brilliant…I didn't realize…"

Her voice trailed off.

Eyes fixed on her work Lady Murasaki nodded.

"You didn't realize the depth of Hannibal's brilliance? I find that very hard to believe. You, above all others, know him."

"No. I know him _now_. I've only known Hannibal as a man. Not as a baby. Not as a boy. I didn't consider…I didn't know Dev would be so…so…"

"Singular? I told you. He is his father's son."

"Was H that brilliant _that_ young?"

The response was swift and unequivocal, "Yes. Even more so though he would never admit to it. In fact, he probably has little memory of that time. A good many of those most happy and precious years before the war are gone for him. Due to his trauma there are large gaps in his memory. We took him to doctors but they suggested we not push him. The average mind protects itself, but his brilliant mind assaulted itself. He had nightmares. He was mute for years."

"I don't think he was mute. I think he chose not to speak…Chilton…"

"I'm not speaking of his time in Baltimore. I am discussing his post-war years living in Lecter Castle without his family. It was turned into an orphanage after the war. Even when he came to live in Paris his voice was only heard when he cried out in the night. His screams were so plaintive. So very heartbreaking."

"What did he scream?"

"Mischa…just her name…heartbreaking…"

Clarice's eyes heated, spilling over as she spoke, "When did the screams stop?"

"For the most part, when his memory returned, but that was when the killing began. At that time I wished he'd remained mute. I wished he'd never remembered. He was a loveable, dear boy, just like young Hannibal. It was just so much heartache for one so young. It would have crushed the average boy, but Hannibal was, and is, anything but average. Your son is not average, either. That thought frightens you, doesn't it?"

"Yes…but I don't know why."

"You do know why, you are simply afraid to speak your fears aloud because you believe it means you are devaluing your love for your husband. Did you know the word fear and reverence are synonymous? You revere your husband, do you not?"

"No…no…please…no…"

"Please? Do you think my words will make this fear come to pass?"

"No…I…I don't know."

"You don't strike me as the type of woman who is unsure of herself. You are the woman Hannibal chose. You know. You may hesitate facing it, but you_ know_. When I say that young Hannibal, your husband's namesake and the fruit of your marriage is his father's son, you both accept and fear that concept. You are afraid, because your husband is a killer, that your son may grow to be one as well."

Clarice, head hanging low between her shoulders, almost defeated, whispered one word.

"Yes."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	50. Chapter 50

**I'M SORRY CLARICE**

"You're worried that Hannibal was biologically predisposed to kill?"

"Yes. He's so brilliant if he was...no…I can't even say it. I feel as if I'm betraying just by thinking it. I don't even think it…not really. Dev is just so precious…so precious."

"As was his father. Shall I tell you of your husband's stay at the orphanage? The mansion is magnificent. You will visit soon, I'm sure. This symbol of his family's strength and power became no more than a prison for him. He languished for years. When he came to us, the doctors in Paris contacted them. We received a full report."

"Yes. Please. Anything at all, I've always wondered. The records were destroyed."

Lady Murasaki continued her needlepoint. She was meticulous. Each stitch was precisely placed, but the motions of her arm were fluid, slicing gently through the air as if she were conducting an unheard symphony. Her voice was quiet as she spoke, "He was a small boy, very thin, poor nutrition for quite some time, you know. Perhaps that is why food preparation is akin to religion for him. He was denied for so long, you know?"

Clarice moved from Hannibal's chair to the couch. She was anxious and wanted to be closer as if proximity would allow her to hear the words sooner.

"Yes, that makes sense. As you know from living here now, meals are always a massive production. When I ask if we can get take-out food he looks at me as if I stabbed him. And fast food…it's practically a mortal sin to mention it, but it's not just meals. He wants to be in full control of his life at all times."

The elegant woman changed the color of her embroidery thread, twisting the thin gleaming cord through the needle with one swoop of her hand. Within seconds, she returned to conduct her craft, her eyes never leaving her work.

"Hannibal seeks control because he knows what it feels like to have none."

Clarice shifted, tucking her feet beneath her body. She leaned over and removed the throw pillow from Hannibal's chair, resting the now-treasured pillow on her knees. She toyed with the fringe as if tousling his hair.

"He was locked up for years. It was hard to watch. He seems so much larger to me now."

The lady's hands remained in motion.

"I'm not speaking of his incarceration. He was restricted, yes, but he had some small measure of control. As a child in war-torn Lithuania, he had none. He knows loss. He feels it deeply and it has given him a strict sense of fairness. You do as well, I think."

The movement of Lady Murasaki's hand was becoming so hypnotic Clarice looked away, attending to the pillow she'd removed from Hannibal's chair. She bowed her head, pressed her nose to the cushion and inhaled. It smelled of him.

"I think he and I felt a kinship because of it. There was an immediate trust. I don't know why, but I never feared him. In fact when I was with him was the only time I truly felt…safe. He treated me differently than anyone who'd visited him previously. It broke my heart when they tried to use that against him. It almost worked."

Lady Murasaki paused for a moment, though she didn't look up, commenting, "If not for your intervention, instead of the boar being the symbol of the Lecter family's strength it would have signaled the end of the line."

The moment she finished the thought, the hand gently pinching the needle moved once more.

Placing the pillow on the arm of the couch, Clarice rested her head, the tufted cushion a poor substitute for the comfort of her husband's chest.

"No, as much as I'd love to take credit for that, it wasn't me. Not really. He knew they would come for him and he knew Mason Verger would have paid off people, government resources that would work against him. My involvement was part of Hannibal's master plan to control the circumstances of his capture."

"How do you know that? It wasn't reported in that way."

"Knowing they would be following me, he visited my home the night before to charge the batteries for my phone. He needed to be certain he and I could be in constant contact. He arranged for the meeting place, Union Station, and directed me to areas within that could be tracked by sound alone, so all I had to do was follow the clues."

"Perhaps he just wanted to meet you in a public place. He was attracted to you. It might be that he wanted to see you once more before he fled. If you had called for backup, he would have been able to see."

"No. I would have met him anywhere, anytime and he knew it. I should have called for backup, but they all wanted him dead and I didn't. As I searched for him he made certain to bring me to an area were I would spot the kidnappers. When I told him he was being followed, he told me he knew and that I would have to make a choice. He was giving me the chance to chose him even then, but I couldn't. I didn't know my own mind yet…I didn't understand. It was then he led me to the exit and made sure I saw the moment he was being taken. He understood I wouldn't give up on him and he trusted me to find him. He trusted me. He trusts me and I keep failing him."

Again she paused but this time she looked up, meeting Clarice's, staring up from the pillow wide-eyed, inconsolable.

"You haven't failed him. He left. You didn't. Clarice…he will return. The question remains, do you know him, truly? Do you know your own mind?"

This time, Clarice looked away, her eyes wandering the path her mind was taking.

"Even as a little boy at the orphanage, he should have been protected. He wasn't."

"No, he wasn't, but people in power often take advantage of perceived weakness. In the orphanage they put older children in charge of the younger boys. Hannibal didn't recognize the pecking order, that the strong should rule the weak, so he was bullied."

"Badly?"

She didn't need to be comforted. She needed truth and Lady Murasaki delivered heaping doses of unfiltered reality.

"Yes, and quite often until he began fighting back. He fought to defend smaller boys as well, but they often turned on him. They were targeted more frequently and harshly if they befriended him, so none did. Still, friendless as he was, he looked out for them. For the smaller ones."

If it shook Clarice she didn't show it. Perhaps she clutched the pillow tighter. "Because he was small? Did that make him a target of larger boys?"

"At times, but he was taunted by the younger, smaller ones as well, though we were made to believe he tolerated that very well. He often gave treats to the younger ones, even those who taunted him. He has always been kind to those he saw as defenseless or weaker. He was picked on because his family had been so wealthy and theirs had not. They knew he was living in his own home and was now no more than another of the nameless rabble of orphans. He didn't speak and no matter what was done to him, he wouldn't tell. The larger bullies…Hannibal made them pay…he hurt them, mercilessly."

No friends. None.

A sigh escaped with the question, "In what way?"

"In any way…in every way. When he came to Paris, still, he wasn't speaking. It was a very trying time. His sister was missing. We searched, we hoped, but, still silent, Hannibal couldn't provide information. He was silent all day and screamed all night. It wasn't a good sign. We'd lost any hope for her survival."

Clarice buried her face in the pillow for a moment. The tears were absorbed before she lifted her head.

"Tonight…he was hurt when he left. I hurt him. He was about to enjoy his…meal. Did I fight with him because of what he was going to eat?"

Lady Murasaki's face showed no emotion. Her tone was neutral. She sat very still, holding the emotional mirror in front of Clarice by questioning, "Did you?"

Tears flowed, though there were no sobs. No reddened eyes or hitched breaths choking her. The words streamed with the same clarity as Clarice's tears.

"I don't know…I don't think so. It didn't bother me knowing it was human anymore than knowing a roast had once been a hunk of pig or cow. When he was throwing it away without a bite, I practically begged him to eat it. It's crazy. I tell him I accept him, but I keep hurting him and I don't know why. I'm just so…afraid. Not of H…I'll never be afraid of my H…I afraid for…"

There was now a softening in the look on Lady Murasaki's face. Perhaps it was an understanding of the sentiments being shared. Her voice lowered. The embroidery set aside, she brushed her hand across Clarice's cheek, wiping aside a tear.

"You're afraid for your son, but Hannibal understands fear and what motivates it. Don't worry. Your words may briefly sting his pride, but he won't hold your thoughts against you. Because he knows you love him he can't be hurt by mere words. He was upset. Give that magnificent mind a chance to process the events of the evening and you will see…your H will return to you."

Using the back of her hand, Clarice wiped aside the tears. Curiosity sparked behind her swollen eyes.

"I know he doesn't process pain in the way we do. Do you know when that started? Do you think Dev will be that detached? That…blunted to pain?"

"He isn't blunted. He isn't detached. He feels it all, but he doesn't let it rule him. Not emotional pain. Not physical pain. His tolerances, because of his experiences and his exceptional mind, are almost superhuman, true. To answer your question, I realized his tolerance for pain was unusual very soon after he came to us."

Her lips touched the pillow. A frown. Perhaps she wanted to taste him, but could not.

"How?"

"He sliced a very deep gash in his finger. There was no reaction though it required several stitches for me to close the wound."

"You stitched it?"

"Yes. As you can see, I'm quite proficient."

"And he didn't cry?"

"Cry? He didn't blink. Didn't flinch. The self-control for one so young seemed impossible. Frankly, I believed he might have Congenital Insensitivity but later when we discussed it with the doctor the thought was summarily dismissed. Hannibal was then and is now perfectly capable of expressing the presence of pain. It is simply that he is the master of both his body and his mind."

"He's amazing, my H…there's just no one like him."

"If that were true you wouldn't be so worried. Your son is like him. He is brilliant and regal, like his father. Hannibal Lecter. Count Hannibal Lecter, the eighth in the line to bear his name, is extraordinary, but he is not Hannibal the Grim. Your husband was not born a killer, nor is he a monster, though I thought him once myself. I told him there was nothing in him left to love. That he was drawn to darkness. I regret it now…so many regrets."

Clarice nodded. They shared this.

"Me too. I promise him he'll never be hurt again and there's another wound. There's another scar. Another hurt I can't take away."

"Hannibal understands that that promise isn't realistic, that it is you telling him you love him. He knows, too, that it is a promise that is impossible to keep. Here, he is loved and that is enough. Rest assured, dear Clarice, as a boy, before the war, Hannibal was as spectacularly intelligent and sweet a boy as the baby that sleeps upstairs. He loved and cared for his little sister until they broke his are to wrench her from his grip. He would have taken the swing of the axe, even as a child, that it might save her. No, the awakening of his darker half is his only defense against the black souls of those around him. I once saw him as Mephistopheles. Now, I see him as the archangel Michael. He is a brilliant man who fights a mighty war, your Hannibal."

"He is your Hannibal, too."

"No. Your love for Hannibal was offered with full knowledge of his nature. Your love was offered unconditionally. I regret to say, though I loved him, that mine was not. But that is a chapter for another day and perhaps one Hannibal should tell you himself."

Clarice clutched the pillow and breathed deeply for his scent was all she had of her husband for now.

* * *

Gripping Omar by wrist, Hannibal prepared to hoist him onto his shoulder with the intention of carrying the unconscious man to the horse. The moment his senses alerted he was forced to let the limp body recline slowly to the ground.

_There is activity. _

Nostril flaring, Hannibal moved his head from side to side gathering the cooling night breezes against his cheeks as he sought that particular current that might hasten the scent. Extending his arms he breathed deeply filling his lungs to capacity. Warm aromas flooded his nostrils, his mind quickly sorting the influx of stimuli.

_Raphael. He's come to check on his friend. Options? Metal on fabric? It depends on the relationship between the men. If that is not an option, the contents of my back pocket will do nicely. Accidents happen even among friends._

Smoothly transitioning, Hannibal knelt beside the unconscious man and skimmed his hand along the ground even as his face continued to oscillate. Nostrils flaring, pinching, flaring, the pattern continued as he tracked the man's approach.

_I heard the drop of your blade the moment the limb crushed your face. One cannot mistake that large a metal object pinging against gravel for the crunch of your teeth, dear friend. _

Hannibal's hands fell upon the knife. It was very large. Bayonet from previous military service, perhaps.

_From the size of your weapon one might think you were compensating my inferior friend._

This blade was heavy. Clumsy. Efficient, certainly, but without the elegance Hannibal preferred. If the harpy could be compared to the talons of an eagle, this knife would be the claw of a bear. Deadly yes, but sloppy.

Raphael seems competent. This will not be as easy a kill as Omar.

_Perhaps you are more worthy of my time, Raphael? Two for the price of one is a more than fair bargain for my efforts this night._

Hannibal removed Omar's shoes and quickly placed them on his own feet.

_Two deaths in one night may not be seen as accidental but thankfully you are a hothead, Omar. I will have options. Signs of a struggle will be necessary if a fight is to be believed. If not, the two accidents must be connected. More information is needed._

They were far enough from the main building that incidental noises would not be head. The sounds of forklifts and the large generator providing electricity to the structure would insure that even if there were screams, they would likely go unnoticed. Hannibal's only worry would be if Raphael turned to run.

_I am relying on your empathy. Will you intercede on behalf of your friend once more? Is he even your friend or are you here on behalf of Mario?_

Tugging on a pair of leather gloves, Hannibal stood in the darkness beside Omar. Looking down, from the movement of the man's ribcage, he could see he was still alive. Even better. Raphael might risk his life for his friend but didn't seem the type foolish enough to defend a dead body.

"Omar? Omar? Where are you?"

Hannibal whispered, "My car."

"You're too prideful for your own good. Calm down and come back. My sister will be upset if you lose this job."

_Brother-in-law, perhaps? If so it is more to my advantage. The fight may not be necessary. I shall have but one opportunity…you will need to be close._

Omar's truck, like his knife, was a classic symbol of male overcompensation. It was a large pickup truck with dual vertical exhaust pipes and an overly jacked suspension. The wheels and tires were massive giving the vehicle monster truck status. No way Raphael could miss it. Hannibal waited. The shoes were tight, his feet pinching as he leaned forward like a sprinter pressed in the blocks, ready for the race to begin.

Raphael was slow to arrive so Hannibal kicked Omar's ribs eliciting a hollow thud followed by a low groan as air expressed from the lungs.

"Omar? Are you hurt?"

A wicked grin tugged across Hannibal's gleaming white teeth. His sense of humor as dark as the night he was tempted to quote the commercial he'd seen more than one time too many and whimper, 'Help, I've fallen and I can't get up,' but his self-control kept hold of his tongue. This temptation avoided, once more, Hannibal whispered.

"Yes…help…"

Hannibal would have the advantage here. He could see clearly in the low light.

Raphael turned the corner.

Hannibal found the expression on the man's face highly satisfactory, as he loomed over his brother-in-law. Finding the taste of it delicious, Hannibal ingested every ounce of the man's fear.

Looking down to Omar and up to Hannibal, Raphael tensed, entreating, "Is he dead?"

Appearing almost bored, Hannibal, one leg crossed over the other, made a show of cleaning his already immaculate fingernails with the point of Omar's knife.

"Dead? No, not as yet. Would you like him to be? Perhaps you find him offensive as well? It would take but the work of a moment and I assure you I am up to the task."

"No."

"You choose to intercede on his behalf?"

"He's ignorant but he's family. I'll kill you if I have to."

"Family, yes. And to protect my family I find that I am forced to do the same. That puts us at a bit of a crossroad, does it not?"

Moving away, Hannibal circled to the right allowing Raphael the opportunity to reach Omar. This was not being done in a humanitarian way, but because he knew instinctually Raphael would hold this ground. Hannibal understood it would be necessary to keep between the conscious man and the building where one unplanned warning would mean his death.

"If you move further away and let me put him in my car I'll take him directly to the hospital. I won't hurt you. You can watch me drive away. Follow me even. I won't warn the others. If he is safe, you'll be safe too."

"You won't hurt _me?_ And what of tomorrow? I am feeling safe enough, thank you."

Raphael's shoulders dropped.

"I don't have a weapon."

That was a problem. He might yet need Omar's knife.

Hannibal flicked his sleeve, ejecting the harpy. He tossed his treasured weapon onto Omar's chest.

"Perhaps it is time my own blood wets the blade."

Shocked, the man stared at the weapon.

"Live by the sword, die by the sword. Let us see who Fate favors tonight."

Raphael used both hands to unfold the blade from the handle. He flinched when the blade snapped into the open position.

"You should know that I find the process of sharpening my weapon to be meditative, therefore the blade is well-tended and the edge unforgiving. Mind your fingers."

The man didn't smile. Hannibal stepped toward him knowing Raphael would close the distance between them to keep Omar from further harm.

Wanting to give the appearance of age and declining ability, Hannibal slashed haphazardly at Raphael with far less speed than his skills where capable of delivering. He movements were awkward, almost arthritic in nature. He could smell the stench of confidence rising.

"You are afraid to approach an old man?" Hannibal taunted. "Are the teeth and claws of this old lion so fearful you refuse to make contact?"

"I can beat you. I know that now."

"Come. Let us dance."

The man's body lurched forward with exceptional speed, more than Hannibal expected. The older man was forced to step to the side eluding the attack with the grace of a matador evading a bull.

Hannibal turned and faced the threat. Best not give a man on the ground the opportunity to hook his Achilles tendon.

"Not as easy as it looks, is it? Come. As I consider you a worthy adversary, just this once, I will allow you the dignity of standing without fear of attack."

He stood slowly.

Stalking forward, Hannibal watched the man's eyes. His hands would follow the eyes. He needed the man close enough to hit. When Raphael hooked the harpy wide with his right hand, Hannibal dropped low, ducking beneath the man's swinging arm. The _woosh_ of air lifting the hairs from his head illustrated how close Hannibal had come to contact with his beloved harpy's claw.

"It was a valiant effort, though your fears are keeping you too far for your attack to be effective. Perhaps my reputation earns you an advantage."

Hannibal opened his hand and flipped the weapon he held. The blade landed flat in in palm. Looking down he considered his next move. Spontaneously, as if the thought were no more than whimsy, Hannibal gripped the blade, looked his opponent in the eyes and with a quick snap of his arm, threw the knife at the ground. The force drove the blade deep within the gravel and soil.

Hannibal closed his eyes.

_I'm sorry Clarice._

Harpy in hand, Raphael charged.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	51. Chapter 51

**THE BRIDGE OF DREAMS**

Standing firm as Raphael charged, Hannibal reached to his back pocket and tugged the boleadora free. Lifting his arm he unfurled the weapon. Gripping one of the three steel balls, Hannibal tightly circled his arm and hand, slowly launching the other two balls in orbit. As he gripped the sphere, he twirled the nylon rope with his wrist, the centrifugal force created allowed each weight to rotate over his head, revolving at a very high, and exceptionally lethal rate of speed. Here the good doctor didn't rely on sight. He could see clearly. There would be too much stimuli. He relied on sound. Precisely controlling the missiles, he listened to the whirring sounds, mathematically determining the exact time each deadly sphere passed. Within Hannibal's singular mind, geometric calculations swirled at unholy speeds. Distance, angles, speed, height, rotation, axis, these were the precise measurements on which his life depended.

_The footsteps. He is very near now. _

Eyes closed, Hannibal flicked his wrist, releasing the weapon just as the man swung his arm. The crunch of the bones signaled impact of the steel shot, the sound finding his ear nearly simultaneous to the Harpy piercing Hannibal's flesh. His inhalation hissed as the weapon dragged, opening a wound on its owner's left shoulder blade.

In an attempt to limit the physical damage the blade was causing, as Raphael fell face-forward, Hannibal spun away. Pinching his shoulders and twisting his body at the waist, he ducked low and slipped away from the weapon, further escaping the merciless hook of the Harpy.

Relief.

"Are you as dead as your brother-in-law?" Hannibal spoke, not expecting an answer.

No sound returned.

"Forgive my presumption, allow me to test your pulse."

Placing his fingers against an arterial pulse point at the man's throat, he waited.

Nothing.

"Dead? That certainly does give me free rein without apology now, does it not?"

Working quickly, Hannibal removed the Harpy from the man's death grip, folded it against his own thigh and slipped it within his sleeve. Checking the cuff of Raphael's shirt he determined none of his blood had reached the dead man's hand or arm.

_My shirt is very wet…the gash must be large._

Torqueing his body, he attempted to examine the wound but could not see enough of it to assess the damage. Hannibal hopped onto the elevated running board of Omar's massive vehicle and turned his shoulder toward the large side mirror. Looking over his shoulder at the reflection, he determined that, though it needed to be stitched, the wound was a surface injury.

_Thankfully it isn't dripping blood to the ground. With luck, the shirt will continue to absorb. I have time._

After retrieving the horse, Hannibal took the remaining boleodoras, swinging them repeatedly, denting and smashing the vehicle that scent determined to be Mario's. When he finished, he hurled the last through the windshield of Mario's vehicle.

_They will believe in a fit of anger you destroyed Mario's vehicle. Now how to account for Raphael? Angry or not you wouldn't kill your brother-in-law. Not intentionally, anyway. Bothrops Jararacussu!_

Hannibal turned in the saddle looking toward the trees. After several minutes of searching he saw a flash of pale green and yellow. Not able to handle it directly, he retrieved a very long and sturdy limb, snapping off the branches to create a very solid 'Y' shape. He then tied his handkerchief over the horse's eyes.

Patting the animal's neck, in a low soothing tone, he spoke very gently to the horse, "Stay steady my friend, this an exceptionally unforgiving foe."

Hannibal placed the crotch of the branch just below the mid-point of the animal's body. Lifting very slowly he removed the coiled beast from the tree. Reins wrapped around his forearm, he guided the horse to move away from the tree by using the pressure from his legs alone. The snake began curling around the branch, reminding Hannibal of the staff of Asclepius.

_Mother, her rosary twisting around her arm. Her clothing on fire..._

Reaching for the tail, but ever mindful of the head, Hannibal tightly gripped the very tip of the reptile. Once his hold was secured he dropped the branch and in the same motion cracked the body like a bullwhip, sending the head of the snake rocketing toward the ground. The moment the head struck the hardened soil, the animal fell limp. The snake now dangled, swinging beside the horse more like a belt than a deadly serpent. Dismounting, Hannibal spooled the dead animal onto the ground, propping it as if it were about to strike. Lifting a rock from the ground, he mounted and securely gripped the reins. Reaching forward he slipped the silk fabric from the equine's eyes.

"Steady, my beauty, my plan cannot succeed without your fear."

Holding tight, he tossed the rock onto the ground to attract the horse's attention.

"Mind the predator, my friend. Much like me, you didn't reach this age without being able to defend yourself from the likes of a snake in the grass."

Sighting the coiled beast, the horse began rearing, clashing sharp hooves, stomping up and down until the snake was no more than pulverized meat.

Leading his mount to Omar's body, Hannibal put the leather gloves on Omar's hands and secured his boots. He then tangled the man's leg within the throwing rope lashed securely to the rigging, and slapped the horse's hindquarters sending the animal bolting, the body bouncing and skipping along the ground.

His work complete, Hannibal left the area without removing the small skeleton from the stall.

The jog back to his car was much slower. Hannibal was careful not to let his blood pressure elevate. He had a wound and evidence wasn't something he was intent on providing.

* * *

Hannibal destroyed his blood-soaked clothing, placed a temporary dressing over the wound as completely as he was able, and drove to his home. By the time he slotted the key within the lock it was well after midnight.

_Are you awake, my Love? I have much to say…_

Entering the home he hurried to his bedroom, undressed and showered. The hot water forced the wound open and blood was flowing once more. After he thoroughly cleansed both his body and the wound, he stayed within the shower, and poured several large bottles of saline over his shoulder to fully flush the wound. The final bottle was filled with antiseptic to prevent infection.

_Perhaps you are awake, my aunt? I shall need your assistance with this. _

He very gently draped an abdominal dressing to cover the wound, slipped his bathrobe over his shoulders and tied the sash loosely around his waist. Not wanting to chance blood stains, forgoing undergarments, he also remained barefoot. Walking to the bed he stood over Clarice. She was sleeping, though fitfully.

_Are you dreaming of me, my Love? I'm so sorry that thoughts of me don't bring you peace. You are my calm..._

Hannibal reached out and used his index finger to lift a lock of hair spilling across her face. He bent low, silently gifting himself with a kiss to her forehead. Without a word, he left the room to seek his aunt's intervention.

Clarice, either feeling his touch or hearing the door shut, sat up in bed. Walking to the bathroom to empty her perpetually full bladder she noticed Hannibal's robe missing from the hook. Several minutes of additional investigation of the bathroom revealed the medical supplies in the trash and his laundry in the hamper.

After waiting a few minutes for him to return, she left the room in search.

* * *

Standing outside Lady Murasaki's suite, Hannibal paused. There was a light glowing from beneath the door. He knocked.

"Come in, Hannibal."

Opening the door, Hannibal stepped inside, seeking, "Shall I once more close the door?"

Lady Murasaki looked toward the door, then to Hannibal. She stated directly, with no hint of her own feelings, "I'll leave the choice to you, Hannibal. Which would suit your purposes more, an open door or one that is closed to the eyes of others?"

Moving through the entryway, Hannibal pushed the door as if intending to close it, but allowed the door to brush his thigh as he entered. The action left the door partially open.

The shifting of Lady Murasaki's eyes told him she noticed the gesture, though she said nothing of it as she rested within her bed reading with the aid of a bedside light.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Hannibal questioned, "How did you know it was me? I was careful to remain silent in the event your were asleep."

She looked up, answering plainly, "One hunter recognizes the approach of another."

Hannibal watched her eyes seeking additional information. Perhaps pursuing information as well, she appeared more a mirror than a window.

He explained, "Hunter indeed. If you are of a mind to help _this_ hunter, I've a wound that needs tending."

Lady Murasaki closed her book, clasping it to her chest.

"Surely your skills are more advanced than anything my humble hands have to offer."

Consciously mimicking her posture, Hannibal placed his right palm over his heart, clasping that hand loosely with his left.

"I am in need of stitches. I have a suture kit, but the wound is on my left scapula and I can neither reach nor see the injury. I would avoid the hospital if you are willing."

"Know, dearest one, that if you are in need, I am as willing now as I was so many years ago."

If there was innuendo in her tone, Hannibal ignored it, instead inquiring, "Where shall I set up the supplies?"

"If you don't find it inappropriate you may sit on my bed. The light is quite good and the bed low. It will bring your body to a height that will be manageable for my size and the bedside table can be used to prep your supplies."

"That is acceptable, thank you."

Hannibal reached into his pocket and removed a sterile suture kit. He opened the package and placed it on the bedside table. As he busied himself setting up the materials, Lady Murasaki gently folded the bedclothes aside. The turning out of the bedding caused the aroma of the lavender-scented sheets to flood the room. His senses momentarily overwhelmed, long-ignored memories charged against this sealed door of Hannibal's memory palace. Protector stepped in front of the door labeled, My Lady, keeping the intrusive nature of the memories within.

As she stood, Hannibal turned from her, affording a moment of privacy as she put on the kimono-style robe draped on the chair beneath the window. When she returned, her body brushed against his, the silken fabric slipping against his arm.

"Please, nephew, sit."

Moving toward the bed, she placed her hands on Hannibal's neck, gripping the interior collar of his robe. As she lifted, without a thought, he shrugged the garment from his shoulders, allowing the fabric slide down, hanging from his elbows. His torso was fully exposed. The only thing preventing full nudity was the belt at his waist. As he had averted his eyes when she left the bed, he was uncertain what might prevent Lady Murasaki's nudity.

She assessed the gash and nodded. "It is an injury I can handle."

Preparing for the procedure, he angled his body to face a large chest of drawers. There was an antique mirror mounted to this vintage piece of furniture. He could see the doorway and part of the hallway. It was not a coincidence. Was there a hint of fiery auburn? He imagined so.

Unmoving, Hannibal kept his hands securely folded in his lap. His nostrils flared. He wondered what would happen next.

_Chaos appeals to me, but not where you are concerned Clarice._

Lady Murasaki donned the gloves Hannibal provided and lifted the first of the instruments. "Is there a certain procedure I must follow or am I to simply close the wound?"

"I am unconcerned as to your chosen technique, though you should keep in mind the shoulder is a difficult placement for stitches as there is a great deal of muscle movement. A sturdy and resilient stitching technique would be best."

"Very well. I'm certain I don't have to ask you to remain still."

"I will not move."

Lady Murasaki spoke as she worked.

"Your wife was worried for you tonight."

"Yes. It was, all of it, my fault. I shall apologize at the earliest opportunity. I would have by now, but she was sleeping when I finished my shower. I chose not to wake her, but I am rethinking that decision. She had the right to assess my injury. She may be upset with me for this choice as well."

"She is pregnant. It is difficult for a mother in the late stages. She worries for you. For the unborn child and your son as well."

"Yes. I should have taken her condition into consideration. It was inconsiderate of me. I let my pride as husband and father overrule my duty to my wife."

"She loves you very much. Perhaps more than you know."

"I am aware of her love for me. I feel it very deeply."

"And what of my love for you, Hannibal? Can you feel it as well?"

"Yes, dearest aunt. I feel your love."

"Your aunt…not Sheba."

"My uncle called you Sheba. If you recall, I did not."

"No, you're right. You called me your lady. Am I that still?"

"Yes. You are my lady."

"And Clarice?"

"Clarice woke me from the winter of my life. Clarice is my Love. Clarice is All."

"There was a time you thought I was all. Do you remember? I see you and the cricket sings in concert with my heart. I told you that, many years ago when you were young and I loved you so. Do you recall, Hannibal? Do you remember your response?"

"I remember _everything_, but…my lady…Clarice…"

"Our once fiery coals faded to grey and cooled long ago. There is no harm to speak of a love whose embers have dimmed. Dearest Hannibal, though I hear you speak it every night on the bridge of my dreams, indulge an old woman with more regrets than years left to her. If it is true that you loved me, speak the words to me once more."

His voice low, he spoke softly, "My heart hops at the sight of you, who taught my heart to sing."

Snipping the last stitch she set the suture to the side and covered Hannibal's wound with the dressing provided. Lady Murasaki moved around Hannibal's body to face him, her back to the mirror. Bowing slightly, she gently held his face in her cupped hands, their eyes locked as the years began flying away. Hannibal remained very still, the flash in the mirror holding fast. As Lady Murasaki tilted his head ever so slightly downward, Hannibal's eyes fell closed.

Bending low, she placed a kiss on his forehead, as was her custom when he was young. This time, her lips, like her robe, remained closed.

When Hannibal lifted his head and opened his eyes once more, the flash of auburn was gone. His nostrils flared.

_Clarice…_

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	52. Chapter 52

**Author's note:**

**For Exinferis. I'm tremendously honored by your kind words and your generosity. Thank you, not only for taking the time to read, but also for your eloquent and gracious note. I am truly humbled. LH**

**FORGIVENESS**

She'd left so quickly.

_Clarice._

It took several minutes for Hannibal to return to the bedroom.

The scent of lavender overwhelmed his senses, his memories. Hannibal had no idea how long she'd been in the hallway. When he'd first detected her scent the presence of it had already been well saturated. She had been there longer than that first acknowledgment.

Entering the bedroom, he removed his robe and climbed into bed. He did not immediately curl around her body, as was his nightly custom, but waited for her to reach out to him or speak that he might know her emotional state.

Clarice remained very still. Hannibal breathed. There was a faint scent of salt.

_Have you been crying?_

Hannibal rested his hand on her left shoulder stroking his thumb very gently along the elegant slope to her neck. His fingers lighted on her pulse point, the thump was quick and deliberate.

_You're disturbed by my actions, my Love? I'm sorry._

Careful to keep his voice low, he continued to caress her skin, soothing as he spoke, "Clarice, I am aware you are awake. If you are of a mind, I'd like to speak with you. If not, I'll wait until you are more emotionally prepared to have a discussion. Perhaps after a good night's sleep. What are your feelings on the matter?"

"I don't know, H…I thought I did, but now, I don't really know. I'm not going to have a good night's sleep tonight anyway. I'm…I'm all bottled-up…I feel…I feel…"

Hannibal began placing very small kisses across her neck and shoulders.

"Angry?"

"Maybe. I don't know…but I'm disappointed for sure."

"In me?"

"I don't know. Should I be?"

"That is for you to decide. I would help if you will allow. Of what are you unsure?"

"I'm not _really_ unsure… first, I was just confused about me and you but now it's your aunt, too."

She reached backward for his body smoothing a hand upward from his knee to his thigh, the soft hairs bristling at her touch. Her hand stuttered, a brief inhale, almost a gasp, as her fingertip passed over Hannibal's thigh and hip. Bare flesh. She now knew he'd been unclothed save the robe. Sensing the stiffening of her muscles and the speed of her pulse, he sensed her upset but she said nothing of it.

"If you would grant me the honor of facing me, Clarice, I would prefer to see your eyes as we speak."

She rolled toward him. Not tentative. A pleasant surprise, but she so often astounded him, committing fully to the presence of his body. Not avoiding contact, she pressed toward him with such need, he expected, when seeking her eyes, an expression of sensuality. But when their eyes met in the moonlight filtering through the partially drawn curtains, there was vulnerability in her expression that shook him to his core. Her eyes were wet, face fully flushed, cheeks streaked with sorrow.

Concerned for her emotional state he clasped her face with his right hand, his palm gently cradling her cheek. His thumb stroked her tear-streaked face. First, he kissed the tip of her nose. Next, each damp cheek, and finally her lips, a brief touch before noting with concern, "You've been crying?"

Her body shuddered, she stammered, "I'm sorry, H…I'm…I'm really upset…I…I don't know what you want me to say to you."

Touching his forehead to hers, Hannibal stressed, "There is nothing I _want_ you to say to me, Clarice. I am seeking honesty, that is all."

Pulling him closer, she pressed her cheek to his.

"That's what I want too, but I never quite know what's going on in your mind and I'd really like to 'cuz if I did, maybe I wouldn't be so angry right now."

Holding her tightly, gently, he probed, "How can I ease your mind?"

She pulled back, her hands pressing on his chest to give her more distance.

"I don't know…I'm trying really hard not to overreact but I'm so mad I feel like my skin is just…boiling. I'm almost nine months pregnant. I look like crap. I feel like crap. Everything single inch of my bloated body hurts and what I just saw between you two isn't helping my self-esteem much. Worst yet, I have no idea what any of that means to you."

Holding them away from his body, Hannibal was unsure of what to do with his hands. He lifted his body up on his right elbow. He tried to move closer, but she shrank from him.

"You need only ask, my Love. Have I ever failed to honestly answer a question put to me?"

Clarice flopped over on her back. Her eyes searched the ceiling.

"I want _more_ than that. I want you to tell me things without me having to pry the words from your mouth. I've got to know what's going on inside you. I need to feel you, H."

He reached for her, placing his palm on the apex of her belly. The child kicked. Hannibal bent to his wife. He kissed the point where his child moved. Turning his head, he rested his ear on the spot so he might listen to their child moving within his wife's womb.

"That may be difficult for me."

Clarice gently tousled his hair. "Why?"

As he spoke he continually kissed her swollen stomach. "I have lived a solitary life and as such am not accustomed to this level of communication. You shall have to help me, Clarice. What do you want me to share with you?"

"It hadn't occurred to me before tonight, but…your aunt? I mean…I knew you were very close and felt betrayed by her rejection, but exactly what did she reject? Were the two of you…intimate?"

"Define intimate."

Clarice pushed him off her body and sat up. "Jesus, H! You need me to spell it out for you? Fine! Did you or did you not have sex with your aunt?"

Totally perplexed, Hannibal sat up as well, unsure of what to do. Flummoxed, he stated simply. "No."

Apparently not the response Clarice was seeking. She was irate, challenging vociferously, "That's it? Just no? That's all you're going to say to me!"

Bemused, Hannibal, head inclined as his singular mind calculated the situation, sought a way to regroup.

"It is a direct question. I assumed a direct answer was desired. If you will forgive me, Clarice, I am at a total loss. I am attempting to meet your needs, but haven't a clue as to how. If there is a way to absorb your anger and your self-doubt, I would. Unfortunately, I need your guidance. What will ease your mind, my Love? Tell me and I shall do it."

Hannibal watched closely. It seemed her eyes might have softened but he wasn't certain of that fact until Clarice placed her hands on his chest and patted him gently. Toying with the hair growing thicker at the center, she urged, "I know you don't want me to be upset. But answering with a simple no? That's not good enough, H. I'm gonna want more than that. She lives with us. I need to know."

Slipping his hand from her neck he skated his fingers over her shoulders. Her body was curvier, full with her pregnancy. She was sensual and soft to the touch. His hand found its way over her back, slipping into the canal of her spine. He settled his palm on the gentle slope on the curve of her back. His hand found a rhythm here. Sliding back and forth. He did not know whom it relaxed more, he or Clarice. He relaxed far too much. His tongue loosened. For one so brilliant, it was not an astute move.

"I fail to see whether or not the offer of a sexual act that did not happen nearly sixty years ago impacts our lives today. It isn't as if I extended the invitation to have sex with my aunt- that was her offer. Nor did I request for my aunt to reside in our home, Clarice. If memory serves, that particular offer was yours."

When he saw the expression on her face, he wished he could offer a full retraction but it was far too late.

Slapping Hannibal's chest, Clarice launched into a tirade, "If _memory serves_? Fuck you, H, what about that whole chirping-heart-beating thing? I mean…what the hell? You had a response. For Christ's sake! It was _memorized_."

"Don't be obtuse, Clarice. I have never in my life had a need to memorize a response. If something occurs, I remember it."

"You said she made your_ heart_ sing! There's got to be more to it than a simple no."

"It is as simple as a no. She offered. I did not accept. You have impressive contextual knowledge, do you know what torpor is, Clarice?"

"Goddamned _torpor?_ How in the name of sweet-bleeding-Christ did we get on the subject of fucking hibernation? What the hell does that have to do with us?"

If she wasn't already so enraged he might have reminded her to temper the profanity, but as young Hannibal wasn't present and they were alone in the privacy of their bedroom, discretion being the better part of valor, he let her verbally vent her anger. Hannibal listened, all the while massaging her muscles, stroking the long planes of her legs and arms. She was tense, and angry. She needed comfort, not reproach.

"It has everything to do with us, Clarice and torpor is not true hibernation, if there even is such a thing. It is a state of lessened activity. A slowed metabolism, the body's effort to reduce need in a time when necessary sustenance is unavailable."

Feeling the tension melting from her body, Hannibal gathered her in his arms. She rested her head on his chest.

_Even through your anger, I feel your love, Clarice._

"I understand the concept, H, I just question the reason you'd bring it up now. It's not like I'm going to let you distract me to let you off the goddamned hook."

Stroking her hair as she nestled close, Hannibal answered earnestly, "I'm not attempting to dodge your query, Clarice. I'm explaining the nature of my relationship with my aunt in comparison to my relationship with you. I came to my uncle's house when I was very young. My mother was gone… my entire family, gone. My uncle died very soon after. Lady Murasaki was my only connection to my life before the war. She understood loss, but at that point, I did not. I could not speak of my pain. I could not speak at all."

Lifting her head from his body, she looked up, questioning, "That's really true? For how long?"

Lifting her chin, Hannibal kissed her briefly, answering, "Years, though I am told I called out in my sleep."

Clarice closed her eyes, returning her head to his chest.

"Mischa?"

The warm air wafting across his pectoral muscles tickled as the soft hairs of his chest stirred with her breath. Hannibal thought about his feelings. He ran dozens of scenarios through his head. He did not wish to misspeak now. In his embrace her body felt calm. Her ire was not something he once more wished to encourage.

"Yes. Mischa." A sigh. Over the years her name had become an invocation, said with more reverence than any prayer he'd ever spoken. "When I say Lady Murasaki made my heart sing, I refer to the fact that through her I discovered it was possible for me to connect to another person on an emotional level. That I was still capable of loving, though when she discovered my true nature she said she found nothing left in me to love."

She kissed his chest. "I'm sorry, H…that must have hurt."

Hannibal's hands continually passed over her body. Pheromones swirled.

"It didn't hurt so much it shocked. The thought that her love was conditional came as a surprise to me. As I did not and do not believe true love is conditional, I realized she and I were not in love. That is when my feelings changed."

Clarice shifted on her side. Her hands began to move from his chest to his abdomen, tracing wide circles with her palm.

"That quickly? You just turned the love off."

Hannibal's nostrils flared. Her anger seemed reduced as her amorous interest began to spike. As his intent had been romantic in nature as well, he pulled her close. He was certain she could sense the emotional shift. She would certainly be aware of his physical interest.

"Not in a manner of speaking. That I reevaluated and adjusted the level of emotion does not mean I didn't and don't feel love for her, but it doesn't approach my feelings for you. You accepted me for who I am, for what I am, offering me love without condition. I love and honor you above all for that gift. With you I am not a monster, but am human once more."

As her hand continued its path on his body, Clarice allowed the circles to widen, just dipping beneath his umbilical indentation, then to his lower abdomen.

_Are you seeking my level of arousal? _

Hannibal shifted onto his side with his rigid flesh pressed tightly between them.

Clarice moved against him, encouraging.

"But…torpor?"

Snuggling close, he began to nuzzle against her neck, his nose rubbing the soft skin behind her ear. He teased at the lobe with his teeth, tugging gently, then releasing even as he whispered, "Yes. Such was the state I was in. From the time of my childhood, throughout my adulthood and all the while during my incarceration, it was the winter of my life. I felt the thaw when first we met, the heat, when, so many years later, I saw you once more. And while it is true that her love taught my heart to sing, it was your love that allowed my heart to soar."

Baring her neck, she allowed Hannibal to nibble at the flesh, biting and tasting.

Breathless, she expressed her remorse, "H…oh god…H…I feel like a fool…I'm sorry."

Unwilling to leave the soft skin of her throat, he spoke against the skin as he kissed the flesh, taking tiny bite of the tender skin of beneath her chin. Reaching down, hs very gently lifted her leg as he adjusted his position. Her scent reached him quickly. He sighed.

_You are ready for me. Are you willing?_

He found her lips. His mouth was tender, parting her lips with his tongue with a single gentle swoop. He growled his hunger, opening his mouth quickly, his tongue swirling, dancing around hers. They parted for a moment. He angled his hips, his body probing, rocking against hers, though he did not enter.

"A fool…never, my Love and sorry? For what?"

Hannibal dropped her leg over his hip. He pulled her hips in close, his body encased within the channel of hers. But a slight push, and they would be joined. His lips found the pebbled peak at the height of her breast. Latching gently, he suckled for a moment, releasing with a tiny tug. The bud of flesh popped lightly from his mouth. She could probably feel the smile pulling his lips apart.

"For today, H. I ruined your dinner."

Once more, he teased at her breast, noting the fullness, nudging the rounded side with the tip of his nose as he spoke, "I should not have asked that of you."

Grabbing his head, Clarice pulled him to her, encouraging him to seek her breast once more. This time he latched quickly, her permission inspiring his passion. He tugged at the tip, captured it once more, sucking hard at the flesh. Drawing milk, his jaws moved quickly, careful not to spill.

Gasping at the contact but not refusing the pleasure, she responded, "There shouldn't be anything you can't ask of me, H. You were hungry. You hadn't eaten."

"Lifting his head from her breast, Hannibal comforted, "If I knew you were keeping this meal warm, I would gladly have refused the liver. You are infinitely more delicious and far more desirable. I should have been more understanding. Your hormones, Clarice."

She shifted her leg. Hannibal held his breath as she reached down and pressed his body just slightly inward. Hannibal gasped, his inhalation hitched as it caught the back of his throat the moment the flared tip passed into his wife's body. Starved for her, he clutched her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he rasped, "Clarice…Jesus…Clarice…I need you…I need you…"

He didn't advance his entry, instead waiting for her intention.

"I needed you tonight, too, H, and I need you still. My hormones aren't an excuse to be a bitch. I implied…"

Clarice stopped speaking mid-sentence. She hadn't moved since she'd allowed him to enter her. Not wanting her guilt to bring more distance and encourage a separation, Hannibal clutched at her body. He looked deeply into her eyes and nodded. Permission? She nodded. Granted.

Their eyes locked, Hannibal very slowly enfolded her within his arms and pulled her to him even as he pressed himself within. Listening, he waited. As he filled her body, Clarice allowed her head to roll. Her mouth opened, lips parting slightly. A whisper of a sigh reached his ear, then a gasp soon followed by the gentlest whimper as he entered her fully. Her body stretched around his, grasping him internally.

As he began to move very slowly, Hannibal allowed, "You implied nothing, Clarice. I have killed many people. You love me, I know."

"She loved you too, H…It wasn't enough…maybe I'm not enough."

His movements were unhurried, each withdrawal protracted, each entrance relaxed.

"You have no way of understanding fully what goes on in my mind. It is only natural you would fear for your son. I shall not hold the love you have for our child over your head. You are more than enough, Clarice and you always will be."

His breathing was quickening. The feeling of her body, her scent…intoxicating and though he could have taken control of his responses, he allowed for all, indulging in the tightening of his abdomen, the flood of pheromones to cause his heart to pound. He snarled at the sensations, so primal, and, to Hannibal, so new.

Clarice clutched his shoulders. Her hips began to speed slightly, meeting his and perhaps encouraging more. She whispered in his ear, the sentence timed to his thrusts.

"You were… hurt H…I could see it… on your face…the rejection…I'm sorry…"

Breathless, he could barely manage, "No…need…no need…"

Releasing his shoulders, she gripped his hips. Twisting her body, she sat up slightly, shifting to mount. Now on top, she moved over him groaning as her weight settled her body lower. He was deeper within now. He groaned.

"_Clariiice…"_

"More, H…all of you…I need all of you…"

Hannibal's pace quickened, driving upward. His body. Her body. Oh, god…her body…opening, accepting…his heart began to thump with such force he was certain she could hear it. He listened to the light, airy moans as she squirmed against him seeking friction. As her orgasm began to bloom, she leaned low over his body gasping for breath. Hearing her apogee approach, his mind took over. Possessiveness roared within. He growled his need.

_Mine. She is mine. She has been no other man's. No one will have her. Mine._

Grabbing fistfuls of her hair, he buried his nose, his teeth gnashing against her neck. His breath was hot and fast, huffing heated breaths against her throat. His speech was staccato, keeping up with the breaths he gasped for. Each movement burned. He ached to hear her call out to him.

"Clarice…my Clarice… for me."

"Yes, H…Yes…oh god…H…"

Her muscles began to clutch him. A harsh uptake of breath as her back arched, her body at the height of her rapture now began undulated around his. He watched her breasts heaving with the force of her passion. Her mouth opened, her breath gasping.

The bobbing motion of her breasts almost too much, the glistening of milk around her areola made his stomach flutter. Arching upward, he once more captured her breast, drinking hungrily as he tugged her toward him. Clutching her hips he bucked upward, her breasts bouncing against his cheeks. A shudder ran through her as he bit down. Blood mixed with milk as he lapped hungrily.

Pain and pleasure crashed within her ears. She screamed his name as the waves of orgasm lifted them both, tumbling them within one another's arms. Twisting within her embrace, Hannibal wrestled to the top position, furiously thrusting downward. Biting his lip he posted on his palms, his head dropping low.

Her orgasm fading, she encouraged Hannibal's end.

"Let go, H…come for me…come for me…"

His stomach tightening, he felt every muscle wracking, his body shuddering as his urges overcame. Thrusts shortened, coming quicker until his body stiffened, convulsing with the power of physical and emotional euphoria. Several shudders and Hannibal Lecter collapsed into his wife's arms, clutched her close and fully released the hold he had on his body.

Biting the fleshy muscle of her shoulder, he moaned low, his hips involuntarily jerking as he allowed his body to flood hers. Clarice wrapped her arms around her husband and clutched him tightly. He could feel her muscles gripping and releasing as his body pulsed within. They held each other for several minutes, the tremors of aftershocks rolling between them.

Moved, Hannibal simply repeated, "Clarice…my Clarice…"

She kissed his neck. "Always, H…always."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	53. Chapter 53

**Author's note: I have trouble accessing this site from work- Mature ratings activate the internet filter, so if you ever want to contact me, I just opened a twitter account for my writing. Follow me and I'll follow you! **

**Twitter: This_is_LH**

**Tweet away my friends. You can get hints about upcoming plot lines or you can ask me questions about when the next chapters will be posted! That way you can stay connected to our favorite cannibal!**

**HANNIBAL: Husband. Psychopath.**

Hoping to relax his wife Hannibal began massaging Clarice's back, his firm hands kneading and rolling her muscles, loosening under his expert touch.

Resting her cheek on her husband's broad chest she listened to his heart beating, her head dipping and rising with each breath as if floating on a restful wave.

Though she didn't immediately speak, Hannibal could not sense the beginnings of her ease, instead focusing on the stress hormones still flooding her system. He imagined the hive of apprehension swarming within her mind.

"Clarice, your silence is deafening. The veritable whirlwind of concerns swirling around us scream to be spoken."

She kissed his bare chest, words interrupted as her lips pressed to his flesh. "You left …me, H…you… were upset…and then…you…just…left."

Her lips lighting on his ribs and chest fluttered against his flesh. Pulling her tightly to him, he rested his nose within her hair and breathed deeply. He kissed the top of her head.

"I do have feelings, my Love. My son, our son… you spoke of his gifts as if they were an unwelcome burden. As if my genes and my tutelage have robbed you of your baby."

Clarice squeezed his body, hugging him tightly. He believed the gesture might be her way of reinforcing her love for him. It was not necessary. Her love filled him.

She whispered, "I was shocked. I had no idea how advanced…it came out of nowhere. You know I didn't mean that."

"You were not aware because he has been taught not to speak until he has been spoken to. His manners dictate the level with which he interacts with adults therefore if he isn't questioned he will not voluntarily contribute to a conversation. I must apologize, Clarice. I have questioned him at great length because I wanted you to experience his thought processes. I wanted you to understand his capabilities, but it isn't something he would offer freely nor was it something you would believe without seeing. And you meant every word of it, my Love, but I understand the emotion behind the sentiment."

"I'm sorry, H…"

"There is no need for apologies. I am your husband and though we have a conventional marriage and a very routine life together you were not prepared for the fact that my children will not be…average, as I am not average. Our family will be unconventional at best, but if you wanted an ordinary family I would not have been the practical choice for a spouse. You obviously were not seeking ordinary."

"No. I don't want average. I don't want ordinary. I want you. I want Dev. I want our baby. I drove you away. I wish I hadn't hurt you, H. I was crushed when you left…"

"We are stronger for it, Clarice."

"I guess so."

"It is curious, my reaction to this. I find you have a way of moving me like no other. It both amazes and overwhelms me, Clarice. Know that you did not drive me away. I chose to remove myself as I'd reached an emotional point for which I was wholly unprepared. I felt I had two options: leave or react. Better I leave than behave in a manner not befitting a loving husband. That I responded on such a visceral level I will not apologize. I am a man and a man's pride is a tenuous thing at times. In your eyes, though it is not possible, I wish to be all."

"You _are_ all, H and you always will be."

"No. You are a mother now. Our children have displaced me."

"Not displaced, H…never that."

"Yes, displaced. If I were drowning, Devyni as well, who would you effort to save?"

Clarice rolled onto her side away from Hannibal. Her voice was very quiet, speaking softly, "It isn't a fair question."

Turning onto his side as well, Hannibal spooned against her body. Dropping his chin over her left shoulder, he hushed within her ear, "That you do not relish the answer does not negate the question nor does it speak to the justice of said query."

She craned her neck allowing him to place tender kisses along her throat. "H…please. I don't want to talk about this."

"But we must or we will continue to misunderstand one another. If you cannot speak the words, my Love, have no fear; I will speak them for you. If my life and our son's life were in danger you would unequivocally save our son without a moment's hesitation or any thought of my welfare at all."

She rolled into his embrace.

"No, H. No…I'd…I'd try to save you both…I'd…"

Hannibal captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger. He kissed her lips.

"Perhaps, but do you think I would allow that? No, Clarice. Like you, I value my life much less now that we have a child…" He smoothed his palm over her bare belly, "...children. Know, now, that I am neither hurt nor offended by the notion that you would choose our children above all. That is as it should be. I chose well for my children, as you are a very protective mother. My Love, I am so very proud of the lioness you've become."

"I'm proud of you, too, H. I need you to know that. Our son is so gifted, so beautiful inside and out…thank you, my dear husband. I'm so happy you've come home to me…so happy to be in your arms. Never leave me again, H. Promise me."

"I would never leave you, Clarice, but there may be times I need some distance to put my own self-importance in check. I am a flawed man, but you know that. I was alone for far too long and I can be arrogant, even vain, but I love you. Remember that, Clarice…above all. I love you."

"I love you too, H." Sounding almost like an afterthought, she continued, "Where did you go, anyway?"

Hannibal placed his hands on her stomach, gently cupping her abdomen. He smoothed his hands over their child growing within. The sensation of the child moving within was something that calmed him.

"To the Cervelli ranch."

Clarice placed her hands over Hannibal's. He thought that perhaps the motion comforted her as well.

"Just recon or were you able to cull one from the herd."

His hands continued to move with her hands atop.

"Two in fact."

"When are you making your move?"

The baby kicked against his palm. Hannibal smiled.

"Two nights from now. I'd like to see if I might eradicate the lot of them at once. I have several scenarios in mind. I may attempt a two or three prong approach."

"Did you feel it too? She's kicking a lot more now."

A grin tugged at the corners of Hannibal's mouth noting it was the first time Clarice referred to the baby as a girl.

"Yes. She is quite active."

Stroking her thumbs on his hands still moving, she urged, "Want to give me a hint or two? Tell me a bit about your plans?"

Hannibal winked, "I've not come to a firm determination preferring to be prepared an see where opportunity takes me, but let us say that tonight I intend to wine and dine them."

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"The news of Chavez isn't public as of yet. It would have to appear to be a gang related assassination so there is no doubt the officials are sorting through the evidence before they make any announcements. That will buy me a day or two at most. I intend to take advantage of that small window of opportunity."

Clarice pressed down on his hands, stilling them.

"Don't take any chances, please."

He pulled her hands away from her body and kissed the pulse points of each wrist. He then placed her palms on his chest.

"I will make every effort."

"I don't like the way that sounds, H."

"I will do what is needed to protect our family without hesitation or apology, my Love. Did you speak with Ardelia last night?"

"Yes. She's inviting Dev and the baby to the wedding, too. Her family has a lot of children so she said there will be plenty of kids for Dev to play with."

"That might be awkward, Clarice. Without denigrating Ardelia's family, young Hannibal will not fit in with children his own age."

"He's got to learn how to behave around other kids, H…otherwise he's going to grow up to be a freaking psychopa…"

Mid-word, she stopped talking.

"_Psychopath_, my Love?"

"Jesus…H…I didn't mean it like that."

"I'm aware, Clarice. You don't wish your child to be a social misfit."

"I want him to have fun, so whatever that means to him is fine but I want him to enjoy being a child. He might be brilliant, but he's still a little boy…our little boy. He's like you, so maybe you can think back and try to remember what it was like for you. Maybe you can come up with a plan for him."

"Yes, Clarice. I shall endeavor to keep that in mind. When is the wedding?"

"September."

"That will make the baby four months old and Devyni just shy of a year and a half. Are you up to traveling with them or would you rather I stay behind with our children?"

"No. We're a family. We go together or we don't go at all."

"Very well, Clarice. I'll look into our options and construct a plan."

The intercom activated.

"Mommy? Daddy? I'm awake. Would one of you like to come and see me? I'm lonely."

Hannibal moved to sit up. Placing her hand on his chest, Clarice patted gently and smiled.

"You rest, H…I'll get the little man. You deserve some peace."

Hannibal kissed his wife. She went to the intercom and activated the speaker.

"Mommy's coming, Dev. Do you have a book where you can reach it?"

"Yes. Daddy placed many books in a basket hanging from the outside of my crib."

"Can you read for a couple of minutes? Mommy was just getting in the shower. If you are very patient with Mommy, Auntie and I will take you to the park."

"What about Daddy?"

"Daddy will be very busy today. He has an important errand to run. He will join us for dinner."

"I will read until you are ready. Thank you, Mommy!"

Clarice released her hold on the intercom. "I guess there's an upside to having a genius baby. I can shower without worrying about an emotional meltdown."

"Yes, your ability to shower uninterrupted is what makes our son so special."

"Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H!"

"Heaven forbid, Clarice…heaven forbid."

* * *

With his son, wife and aunt all out for the day, Hannibal tended to his plan. Placing several orders he arranged for a large delivery. It wouldn't be the perfect solution, but it might improve his odds.

The catering will be delivered at 7:00 pm. That leaves plenty of time to mix the drinks and provide for the evening's entertainment.

Visiting his wine cellar, Hannibal selected a case of very fine Malbec. He lined each one of the twelve bottles on a shelf. Next, he opened a box and lifted a large jug from the parcel. Pouring the liquid into an open container he placed the lancet of a hypodermic needle within the container and drew back the plunger filling the barrel. Carefully piercing the cork, Hannibal forced the sharpened tip through the stopper. Depressing the plunger, he expressed the liquid into the bottle. Hannibal repeated the process until the large container was emptied of its contents and he fully satisfied with the results.

It was nearly four. It took less than thirty minutes to deliver the case to the Cervelli ranch. Hannibal crept around the back of the manufacturing shed and placed the crate in plain view. Entering the building in his usual stealthy manner he ascended the loft. Crawling to a far corner he found the perfect vantage point. Hannibal waited.

_Ten men and twelve bottles, let us see what your tolerance levels are my friends. _

Slipping his hand within his jacket Hannibal tugged Chavez's cell phone the inside breast pocket. He quickly composed a text:

_**I'm Port in Buenos Aires- shipment prep confirmed- Food arriving 7pm 4 celebration dinner. Case of wine delivered behind building. Enjoy & C U 2morrow. **_

Hannibal searched for Mario's contact information and hit send.

_Will you be surprised to see me, I wonder? _

A phone began humming. Mario retrieved his cell and checked the message.

"Who can I trust to go get a crate of wine from the back of the building without falling off a fucking cliff or running themselves over with their own goddamned car?"

"You laugh, Mario, but there have been too many accidents. San La Muerte is working against us."

Mario scoffed, "San La Muerta is nothing more than a dead nun carrying a garden tool."

"She has power, Mario."

"Power? Hah! The whole thing is bullshit. End of story."

"Hannibal Lecter has power and he is the agent of San La Muerte."

"Hannibal Lecter is a toothless psychopath and old man. The only person who should be afraid of him is his wife that his heart might quit when he fucks her. He is no threat to us."

Hannibal looked over the edge of the loft. A spider scurried across the ground.

_You may disrespect me whenever you like but that you dare to discuss my relationship with my wife in such a fashion? Rest assured, Mario. I shall take my time with you..._

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	54. Chapter 54

**Author's note: Shout out to my new twitter friends! I'll be tweeting an NMSL fact of the day along with daily updates on chapter postings and clues you can follow. Tweet. I'll tweet back. Follow and I'll follow back! Twitter This_is_LH**

**HANNIBAL CONDUCTS**

Hannibal sat very still watching as the men stood in a circle arguing over the crate of wine.

"Why can't we drink it now? What's the harm? It isn't as if Chavez is coming."

_Good. They all believe the texts have been coming from Chavez. The trap is set. _

The information Hannibal had been providing led them to believe the dock approved the loaded containers for shipment. Though it was untrue, Mario assumed the harbormaster must have already been paid off. As long as the material was received on the other end, their work would prove to a very profitable venture. There was no more they need they believed. A celebration seemed perfectly logical.

Not suspect, but for practical purposes, Mario complained, "Because none of you have eaten and the catering company won't be arriving to set up the food for another hour. On an empty stomach you'll all be drunk before the food arrives."

Stroking his long greying beard as if the gesture might lend weight to his words, an old man offered, "So what if we are? Drunk tonight or not, the pallets have been loaded. The only thing left is to hook the last container up to the cab for transport and that isn't expected at the dock tonight. Tomorrow the drivers can leave bright and early. There is nothing more for the rest of us to do other than to break down the equipment and store it for future use."

Mario, hands folded defiantly across his chest argued, "I don't know about Chavez, but I don't want to deal with a bunch of you idiots puking tonight and stumbling around with hangovers tomorrow."

The old man continued, "Hangover or not, even a monkey could accomplish that much and anyone not man enough to hold his liquor doesn't deserve to call himself a man. We are not children. There are no nipples on those bottles and you are not our father. Chavez sent the wine. He didn't send instructions."

The old man ripped open the box and as he tugged a bottle from the parcel, he continued, "I haven't asked another man's permission to take a drink since my testicles dropped and I don't intend to wait for yours."

Mario wanted to wait for the meal, that was obvious, but was quickly overruled by the thirsty workers. Pushing him to the side the men ripped open the case and quickly withdrew several bottles. Though Hannibal had neatly affixed a corkscrew to the box within an ornately tied ribbon, none of the workers bothered to look at the carefully attached accouterment. Instead, they stood about, mouths agape, staring at the corks as if they'd come up against an unsolvable mystery.

Mario shoved them to the side, tugged the utensil from the parcel and began by opening the bottle for the old man.

"You speak of monkeys, but you fail to see that aside from you, they are all pathetic. So greedy for their share of the alcohol not one bothered to think that it would take more than your desperation to remove the corks from the bottles. I will open no more than six bottles now. That should be enough to quench your monstrous thirsts until the food arrives. Once the meal is served you can drown in the remainder for all I care."

Huddling in a herd they argued back and forth, and after much debate they finally agreed to follow Mario's suggestion. They would drink six bottles now and save the rest for the arrival of their meal. All work was suspended as they sat in a wide circle toasting the perceived success of their endeavor.

Barely attending to the action below, Hannibal sat very quietly. There was time to enter his memory palace. He indulged himself with a quick visit. Walking through the expansive halls he passed many rooms. Some contained pleasant memories, though not all. He passed an area he refused to enter. There were sounds. Great heaving noises where large monsters wrestled one another. Mighty sounding serpents crawled and twisted within. He moved quickly past. These were areas Hannibal would never go. He'd barred himself.

Instead he moved to another corridor. One with lights and sounds that were joyful, where his son played and his wife sang. He sought the door marked, _MY LOVE._ This room was now huge with great soaring ceilings and music reverberating within. Throwing open the doors he breathed deep. The scent was theirs. His favorite: the aroma of their lovemaking. He'd chosen to revisit the first evening he and Clarice had visited the opera in Buenos Aires. She was captivating. He'd purposefully taken her to see an opera he'd seen dozens of times, as the performance, for him, was secondary. He had no interest in the opera that evening. He wished only to watch her responses. He had purchased a private box for the season to avoid prying eyes and distractions. He closed his eyes and sat in the dark listening to Turandot, watching the love of his life. It was heaven. His mind continued running parallel to Chavez' production facility- he barely attended the drunken men. His mind's eye was elsewhere. He was elsewhere.

_So lovely you are, my Clarice, the elegant line of your neck gently sloping toward your strong shoulders as if you were carved for me by the hand of God himself._

He had never felt the loving hand of God before. He'd felt the Deity's scorn, or perhaps it was his negligence, but, now, sitting within the box at the opera, he believed Clarice a gift from God himself. A request, perhaps, for forbearance, recognition that God had neglected Hannibal, injured him even. He didn't mind the years he'd walked in darkness now that he basked in her light. He'd been gifted this goddess…his Clarice. His wife. His lover. His family. He thanked God for this magnanimous gesture. His life, now, was perfection.

The men were drunk now, swearing and sloshing as they swilled from the bottles. Hannibal stepped back behind his eyes to join with his conscious mind once more. He didn't want his memories sullied by such belligerence. He would entertain the thoughts again when he joined his wife in bed. Such memories were calming. He would often hold her at night and join his past and his present. She made him complete.

Watching from his blind, Hannibal was now much more intrigued by the movement of the spider he'd sighted earlier. The animal stayed on the ground scurrying around the men's feet. There was no web.

_Ah, not a weaver? Perhaps you are a ground arachnid? Yes, you are a fortunate find, my friend. After Mario's comments about my sex life I shall enjoy the irony._

Hannibal was thankful for the presence of the spider as now he had additional entertainment. He'd identified the area the spider seemed to prefer, a cracked timber in a dimly lit corner. The animal backed slowly into this darkened hiding place. It occasionally scuttled about on the floor, but each time it returned to the crack in the timbers.

_Might you be there in tomorrow, little wanderer? Perhaps we will be friends?_

After making certain the men had their fill of drink, each continually toasting Chavez for his generosity, Hannibal retreated. The caterer would be arriving with the food and Hannibal preferred the company of his own family for dinner. This situation was costing him precious time with his son. He begrudged the lost hours with his family. They would pay.

Stopping a final time at the stall he confirmed the needed equipment, along with a growing pile of refuse, remained in place. He would have the benefit of surprise for only a few seconds after which he would be forced to trust the men would follow the directions he would provide under the guise of Chavez. Everything would have to be perfectly placed.

_Mario is independent and might not be as easily led. He may prove troublesome._

Hannibal was now behind the wall of the main area. Though he remained in full darkness he could see the men clearly through the slatted wood panels of the wall. One of the men stood. He was particularly brutish in appearance. Squat and hairy, his arms seemed too long for his body. Hannibal peeked through the thin strips of roughened boards making up the wall. Here he could both watch and listen to the conversation as he gathered tools. He could smell the man's approach.

Mario's voice boomed, "Where are you going. Peter?"

"To take a piss. What? Do you want to hold my dick for me?"

_Dick?_ Hannibal winced. _You are a very poor excuse for a man._

Seeing the man was staggering about in a drunken stupor, Mario corrected, "You drunk idiot! The bathroom is the other way."

Waving him away, Peter stumbled toward the door, steadying himself by gripping the handle, countering, "Not that it's your business what I do but I'm going to piss outside."

"Just because you look like a fucking Neanderthal doesn't mean you have to act like one. Piss in the bathroom like an adult you disgusting bastard."

Off-balance, the man tugged the door intending to exit but couldn't get the door open. Instead he was forced to reach for the wall planting his hand mere inches from the exact spot where behind Hannibal stood. The good doctor closed his eyes. He could smell the stench of urine on the man.

_Your undergarments are already damp. Better hurry or you'll ruin my plans. _

Hannibal reached for a shelf and grabbed a large industrial electrical cord. As the man spoke, Hannibal used his Harpy to very slowly carve the sheathing from the cord, exposing the wiring beneath. He gathered all of the shavings careful not to let any fall to the ground.

_I shall meet you outside. Let us see if you change your mind and thus redeem yourself or if your rudeness costs you your life. _

The man stared at the door for a long moment as if trying to figure out exactly how to operate the exit. He was still irate that Mario would dare to question him, admonishing, "Why is it your business where I piss? It's a cool night. So what if I want to air it out a little bit."

The men laughed. The old man, his head and shoulders shaking with laughter, mocked, "If what your wife says is true, it's a_ very_ little bit."

Peter grabbed an empty bottle and hurled it at the wall. As the glass shattered, he waved his arms and stumbled, screaming, "Why don't you all go fuck yourselves!"

Unaffected by the reaction, in fact entertained by the man's anger, Mario taunted, "If we could fuck ourselves, we wouldn't need your wife!"

He then pressed one finger on the door that Peter had been desperately pulling at. With just this slightest touch, the door opened with ease.

Realizing Peter had been tugging on the door with all his might when the mere press of a finger opened it, the men roared with laughter, some falling to the floor holding their sides as Peter pushed himself out through the door.

On the other side of the wall Hannibal followed. Racing through the back corridor of the building, without stopping or slowing, he grabbed a galvanized bucket that had been hanging from the cell. Still at a dead run he began unfurling the coiled extension cord.

_Hopefully your drunken state will buy me precious seconds._

Most likely in an effort to avoid splash-back Peter paced outside for a few moments kicking at the rocks on the ground. Seeking an acceptable spot to relief his bladder he unzipped his fly and began turning in ever-tightening circles like a dog preparing to bed down for the night.

Time of the essence, Hannibal dashed along the exterior of the building careful to keep close to the wall. While running, he snapped open his Harpy and continued to deglove the outer sheath baring an even larger section of wire in the center of the cord.

_All is nearly ready, my friend. Take your time. There is no hurry._

Aware his movements would be detected if he were not conscious of his body moving through space he squatted low. Walking on his haunches he remained close to the ground and edged ever nearer. His target: a heavy-duty outlet servicing the exterior of the building. Reaching the plug, he quickly slotted the cord into the receptacle and stepped back.

That done he dipped the bucket in a water trough and set it down as the man tugged himself free from his trousers. Hannibal pressed himself low. Planking, he tilted his head, cheek almost level with the ground as he calculated the slope of the terrain like a caddy lining up a shot. Satisfied, he straightened himself, lifted the bucket and tilted it very slowly as he meticulously poured. Having been methodical in his measurements, the fluid followed the expected path and began streaming toward Peter, now in full flow.

_Excuse the additional fluid. Unless your member is as thick as your neck your urine will offer needed salinization but won't provide sufficient conductivity._

Waiting, Hannibal held the chord careful to not only attend to the exposed wire, but to stay away from the wet ground.

The water reached Peter's feet within seconds and began pooling around his shoes.

Peter's urine stream began to sputter, the man groaning as he bounced on his heels to shake the last drops from his phallus.

Hannibal cleared his throat. Peter turned, still urinating, as Hannibal spoke, "Was there a problem with the plumbing that you feel the need to pollute the environment with your waste?"

Peter's mouth dropped open, his fountaining penis still in his hand, he stumbled forward, one foot landing squarely in the bucket.

"You're…You're…"

"I'm Hannibal Lecter and you are Peter, I think. I must say you might at least tuck that pathetic excuse for manhood in your trousers. I'm offended by the discourtesy of your actions. When you see him, please give my regards to Chavez."

Looking around as if the man were in the immediate area, Peter questioned, "Sure...why? Where is he?"

With a malevolent wink, Hannibal hissed, "_In Hell_."

With that, the good doctor tossed the stripped section of the exposed extension cord into the metal bucket still partially filled and surrounded by the puddle of water.

The arcing electricity surged through Peter's system. He shook in place for several seconds, dancing like a puppet on a string until the spasms knocked him off his feet. Splayed on the ground in a puddle of water and waste the open circuit surged sending relentless paths of electricity racing along the man's nerve endings.

Burning flesh and singed hair have a very distinctive scent. Not one to Hannibal's taste per se, but as he ran from the area he enjoyed sensory output nonetheless.

**Until the next chapter, my friends, **

**LH**


	55. Chapter 55

**HANNIBAL'S PROMISE**

The old man was the only one who noticed Peter had not returned.

"Where is piss-boy?" He commented as he looked around the space.

Suspicious, Mario placed his fork on his plate and set it aside. Standing, he approached the old man. Mario's tone was serious, questioning with great concern, "What did you say?"

The room quieted, the remaining men listening as the old man continued, "Your Neanderthal, Peter. He's been gone since well before the food arrived. Has anyone seen him?"

The men turned, each looking to another. The vacant stares confirmed what seemed to be Mario's worst fear. One less man…accidents happen, but _another_?

He shrugged it off. "Maybe he passed out in his own filth. Pair off. Everyone outside. Find him."

* * *

Hannibal slept, but not for long. It was a fitful sleep. In his mind's eye he moved through a dreamlike version of his memory palace. The walls were cramped, doorways distorted, walls sloping downward disappearing into darkened corners. The flooring was broken, tiles cracked and upended, piercing the ground like vicious stalagmites corrupting the terrain. Running his hands along the walls for balance he leapt over the obstacles, dodging and weaving the impediments with unrelenting grace. He ran through the corridors searching, desperation clutching the bundled muscles of his chest. The inexorable voice of Protector clamored within his mind.

_Hurry…danger is very near…to save Clarice…the boy…your family, you must kill them all…kill them or they will kill her…they will kill all that you love._

He could hear whispered warnings. He could feel his deep-seated insecurities clawing at his back as the harpies howled in his ears.

_You shall never find them. You cannot save them. We are many, you are but one._

Hannibal ducked beneath a massive beam that had fallen across the hallway obstructing further easement. The smooth girder was shiny, leather-like, blocking the door to a room with a deeply etched crystalline door. Above the door was marked, _MY FAMILY _in platinum and gold copperplate_._ There wavering howls, plaintive pleas echoing within.

_Clariiice…._

Hannibal wedged his body between the beam and the entryway. Stepping onto the imposing support, he lodged his legs, leaned backward and braced his shoulders against the door. Roaring, with all his strength, he pressed hard, his body shaking as his muscles quaked with effort. He struggled, twisting against the frame as he expended ever ounce of his strength attempting to move the structure.

_It is no use. I haven't the strength. I cannot protect. Once more, I am too weak to save my family_.

Hopping down from the tenuous perch, angry that he could not budge the beam, fists clenched, Hannibal howled in anguish. In a moment of frustration, the tormented man whipped his Harpy from his sleeve and began slashing mercilessly at the beam.

Suddenly, great howls echoed and the once sturdy beam curdled and curled, contorting as blood spurted in high-arcing sprays. As the blood fountained, the object evolved into a massive serpent. Coiling its humongous body the animal's tail whipped, knocking Hannibal to the ground. Mighty jaws unhinged, the serpent quickly lunging, engorging itself in an attempt to swallow Hannibal to the waist. Realizing the animal meant to consume him he began to hack at the flesh. He began stabbing and slashing furiously, he cut wide swaths of flesh from the serpent. The less control he showed, the more damage he did to the viper, therefore in order to fight the beast, Hannibal unleashed the monsters within his own mind. With blinding rage, Hannibal chopped, stabbed and slashed at the imposing beast until he'd hacked through the body removing enough flesh to kill the beast.

Ripping the door open he hurried within to gather his family before the monsters he'd unleashed reached them. The sounds to which he'd so often closed his ears were louder than normal. The heaving beasts roamed free.

_The door is open. They are unleashed._

His heart stopped. He woke.

Hannibal left his bed and rushed to the closet. Dressing quickly he withdrew his luggage, quickly packed a bag and set it beside the door. Standing above Clarice, he watched her sleep. He placed his hand on her stomach.

_Our tiny angel grows within you, my goddess. You are magnificent, my Love and she will mirror your grace. If all goes well I will help you bring her into the world. If not, you will be with your friends. All will be well. I promise._

The baby moved. Hannibal's heart stirred.

_Yes, my little angel. You will be safe. Daddy will see to it…you will be safe._

With regret he lifted his hand, his fingertips lingering, physical and emotional energy surging through him as his flesh parted theirs.

_I cannot wait for the sunrise. If the thoughts are this intrusive, another hour, another minute matters. _

Next visiting his son, Hannibal packed a large bag, filling it with clothing, books and toys. Standing over the crib, the concerned father paused. His son's small body rose and fell with each breath. The boy stirred, his nostrils flared. Hannibal stepped back.

_Do you sense my presence, my son? You are so much like me though you have your mother's sensitive soul. Unlike me, there is no darkness within you and that fact brings me peace. You will not have my struggles. I will make certain of that._

Bags in tow he rushed down the stairs and set them beside the front door. He then moved swiftly to his music room. Using his computer, Hannibal quickly arranged for transport. The car services to and from the airport…the flight. They would leave the country today and would not return before the birth of the baby.

Clarice would see the bags when she got to the bottom of the stairs. That he made certain. She would search for a note, but it could not be left in plain sight. Young Hannibal could read now and he was walking. There was no telling if he would see the note before his mother if it was left in plain sight, but the boy wouldn't enter the music room without being told. The note could be left on the desk. He sat down and put pen to paper.

_Dearest Clarice, _

_My senses tell me all is not well. I must go to the Cervelli farm. Please forgive me, my Love. It pains me you were forced to wake alone. _

_I've made arrangements for a private jet to fly the family back to the United States. My bag is prepared as is our son's. As I'm certain you've seen, I've placed them by the front door. If you would, pack a few necessities for yourself and instruct my aunt to do the same. The passports are in the safe. A car will arrive at three o'clock for a six o'clock flight. The driver will handle the luggage._

_I should have all in hand in time to join you either at home or at the airport, but if not, board the flight and await my arrival in Baltimore. I will message Barney to open the home and meet your flight. Food will be delivered prior to your arrival. Do not, under any circumstances, miss that flight, my Love. If you are forced to leave without me, do not worry. I will soon follow. _

_Know that I will do all to protect our family. Please, mind you do the same._

_Ever yours, _

_**H**_

Hannibal sent a quick email to Barney explaining the situation and asking his friend to meet the plane. He then centered the note on the desk and left the room. Within the hour he was approaching the Cervelli home, huddled under the protective cover of night.

* * *

Clarice rolled over in bed and reached for her husband. When her hand fell upon the mattress, she lifted her head. Her nostrils flared. His scent was gone from the room.

"H? H, are you in the bathroom?"

She walked into the bathroom to find it empty. Panic rose from the pit of her stomach. Somehow she knew he was gone. Dressing quickly, Clarice rushed down the stairs. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she saw Lady Murasaki standing beside the luggage equally confused.

"Did he speak to you before he left? One bag appears to be for young Hannibal."

Clarice shook her head. "No. He left in the middle of the night. His side of the bed was long cold."

"A note?"

"Never in the bedroom. Usually in the kitchen."

"No. I would have seen it when I prepared my morning tea. Is there somewhere else he might leave it?"

"The only place he would be sure Dev wouldn't see it would be Hannibal's study. Devyni would never enter that room without permission."

The women walked side-by-side until they reached the music room. Lady Murasaki paused at the doorway. Clarice stopped as well.

"Aren't you coming in? The letter will be on his desk."

"It may be that he wanted you alone to read the letter. There are private words between spouses that are not for everyone's ears."

"You are his aunt. This concerns us both. Please."

Hands clasped primly in front of her body, Lady Murasaki followed Clarice. The women moved very silently across the room as if walking down the aisle of a church. Without speaking, they stood in front of Hannibal's desk. For some reason his chair seemed even more vacant this day.

Clarice held the note as both women read. Clarice then folded the note.

Lady Murasaki placed a gentle hand on Clarice's arm. "Would you like me to assist you, or would you prefer that I tend to young Hannibal until you've had the chance to finish your preparations?"

Clarice tapped the now-folded letter to her head as if garnering information from the action. When she'd come to a determination, she offered, "Why don't you pack first? When you're done I'll pack and give Dev his breakfast."

"And when the boy has eaten? What will you do then?"

"After that, if you don't mind, I'd like to run a couple of errands. If you don't have plans, could you sit with Dev for an hour or two? If we're going back to the states I'll have to cancel my doctor's appointments and pick up the refill for my prenatal vitamins."

Bowing her head, Lady Murasaki spoke very softly, politely disputing as she offered, "He calls you his warrior and you're trying to convince me your only concern is your prenatal vitamins? Would you like me to pretend I believe that story or do you want to talk about your plans to help him?"

Clarice clutched Hannibal's letter to her chest.

"I can't leave him out there alone. He left in the middle of the night. That means something spooked him. He never moves without a plan. If he thinks he's out of time, he's going to take chances. I don't want him unprotected. He's everything to me."

"Yes…I understand. Is there anything I can do?"

"Keep Dev save and make sure you get him onto that plane. You protect young Hannibal for me, I'll look out for H for us both."

* * *

The men scrambled. It didn't take more than a few minutes for them to stumble on Peter's bloated, steaming corpse. His limbs were blackened. The dark purple blood had begun to settle and pool deep within his muscles. It was obvious he'd been dead for hours.

The old man whispered, "May god have mercy on us all. San La Muerte has visited us once more."

Mario took a stick and smacked the cord, tugging the plug from the outlet. When he was certain there was no more electrical charge, he kicked the body.

"It isn't San La Muerte, it's a disgusting brute's drunken stupidity. It is obvious to even the dullest here that this moron dragged the cord with his boot and electrocuted himself when he tripped on the bucket. Look. If he was attacked by some demon do you think his genitals would still be hanging out?"

Unconvinced, the old man shook his head, openly philosophizing as he stroked his scraggly beard, "Death catches many men with their pants down. When the arrow of the hunter flies, the rabbit is rarely prepared."

Mario considered the comment. "Hunter?"

The old man responded with quiet reverence. "I think it was Lecter."

The body was there, plain to see. No cuts. There were no signs of struggle, and it was a very quiet night. Wouldn't the man have called out for help?

Mario was unsure. "Lecter? How?"

The old man circled the body. "Who knows, but isn't it better to be prepared for such things? If Lecter is indeed friends with Cervelli and if he intends to strike tomorrow I wouldn't want to face Chavez when he finds out we ignored such warnings and were caught unprepared."

"Chavez? Fuck Chavez. I wouldn't want to face Lecter unprepared. Burn this caveman and ready the cell. Just in case. If he shows himself, we'll be ready."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	56. Chapter 56

**HANNIBAL'S DARK PLACE**

"Maybe we should tell Chavez?" The old man suggested, "If he's been notified, perhaps he can offer some guidance. We cannot be blamed if we follow his advice."

Mario reacted as if the elderly man's suggestion was ridiculous. Indignant, he chided, "What guidance? It isn't rocket science, old man. If we see Lecter, we kill him."

The old man bristled at the disrespect. He found himself hoping Lecter got hold of Mario. Perhaps he might teach him some manners.

"You say that as if it will be easy. Hannibal Lecter is a brilliant man. He isn't going to offer himself freely. You act as if he is going to show up on your doorstep and bare his throat inviting it to be slashed."

Mario hefted the weapon tucked in his waistband. Waving it in the air, he threatened, "He doesn't need to bare his throat. If he shows his face, I'll put a bullet in his head. It's a simple as that."

The old man sat in a corner, took out a pocketknife and began to whittle away at a piece of wood. He remained calm, carving away as he advised, "It can't hurt to text the man. I haven't lived this long because I was stubborn or took chances with my life. I have reached this age because I know how to avoid predators. Hannibal Lecter is swift and his claws are as sharp as a hawk. I will avoid his talons if I am able."

Maybe because he didn't want to admit he might be overmatched, Mario continued to ridicule the old man, mocking, "You've reached this age because you're an old rat that scuttles along the ground and scavenges for the crumbs of others. Hawks seek fresh meat. They don't seek out half-dead rats."

The aged man seemed unaffected by the comments.

"If I am an old rat it is because I recognize a baited trap when I see one. If you continue to underestimate the hawk, perhaps you will be a dead rat. Scavenge though I might and old as I am, I hope I am alive to see it."

Perhaps the old man had a point. Thinking better of his decision, Mario took out his cell phone. Thumbs dancing across the touch screen he composed a quick message:

_Another man dead- accidental electrocution or Lecter? Advise._

"Okay, I sent Chavez a message. Now we wait for the reply."

* * *

Hannibal was stalking the outside of the building when Chavez's cell phone began humming in his pocket. He ducked behind a large tractor to hide the glow of the phone's display as he read the message. His reply was swift:

_I will arrive 2:00 p.m. If you see Lecter hold him. He's mine._

* * *

Clarice went to Devyni's room finding him sitting very quietly reading a book. The way he held the book it was obvious he wanted he mother to see the cover.

"What are you reading?"

"This is a book Daddy bought me yesterday. He said you would like it. Do you?"

Emblazoned across the cover, a little girl carrying a lamb. Clarice smiled. Devyni handed her the book. She looked it over very carefully and placed it to the side as she began undressing her son. Wrapping him in a towel, she carried him to her bathroom where she'd prepared a bubble bath in her whirlpool bathtub.

"It's a lovely book Daddy gave you, Dev. I like it very much."

As Clarice washed her son she handed him several soap crayons. He began drawing pictures of little lambs on the tile.

"I do enjoy the book and it was very kind of Daddy to think of me. In the book the little girl's name is not Clarice, but Daddy told me you had a lamb once. This little girl takes very good care of her lamb. Did you take very good care of your lamb?"

"While I had the lamb, yes, I took very good care of it. We are going on a trip today. We'll be taking an airplane to visit our home in Maryland."

Tilting his head slightly to the side, young Hannibal paused. He seemed to be deep in thought before questioning, "Is it safe to take our baby on an airplane since she's still in your belly?"

"Yes, it's safe. Mommy has a few more weeks before the baby will be ready to be born. Daddy wouldn't ask Mommy to do something that wasn't safe."

He picked up his soap crayons once more and drew a small girl standing beside the lamb.

"I'm sure he wouldn't. Where is Daddy? He hasn't been playing with me very much this week. I miss him."

Clarice washed his hair and rinsed the shampoo with the handheld showerhead. Devyni closed his eyes tightly, his lips pursed as if the action closed his eyes further.

"Daddy has been making arrangements for our trip. I'll have to go out this afternoon for a little while as well. Auntie will play with you."

Lifting her son from the bath, she quickly wrapped him in a plush towel and began drying him. She then carried him back to his room and set him on the changing table, dressing him. Devyni reached up and began toying with a busy-box affixed to the side of the wall. Knowing Clarice would be leaving soon, Lady Murasaki entered the room.

"Do I have to take a nap? I don't like napping when you and Daddy aren't here. Auntie and I begin to have fun, and then it's naptime."

"No…it's okay. You can take a nap on the plane. Just play nicely with Auntie and have a lot of fun until we return."

"I will, Mommy."

Clarice was now very comfortable in her role as mother, but she would be assuming her role as ex-special agent Starling once more. She would be leaving the mantle of mother behind. Before handing her son over to Lady Murasaki she kissed him on his head and hugged him tight.

Young Hannibal must have sensed her emotional upheaval. He rested his head on her shoulders, gripped her tightly and held her close. They hugged an unusually long time before he released his mother.

"That was a wonderful hug Mommy. It felt very special. Was it?"

"Yes, it was because I love you very much. Every time I hug you it feels very special."

"I think it felt special because you going to take care of Daddy now."

"What?"

"Daddy said you used to be an agent and that you were very brave. He said you saved him when they made him live in a very dark place because he had done something wrong, but you brought him into a bright place. Are you saving him once more?"

"I'm going to make sure Daddy comes home to us. How did you know I was going to help Daddy?"

"Because when you hugged me tight, I could feel the…the...I'm sorry, Mommy. I don't remember the word for a gun holder."

"It is a holster, Dev. Don't worry. Mommy knows what to do."

"Yes. Daddy said you shoot very well. Better than he does."

"Daddy has told you quite a lot about me, hasn't he."

"Yes. He told me because we our family is very different from most that people might talk about us, but especially about Daddy. He said he would rather I hear these things from him and not from strangers because they don't understand how much we love each other."

The women exchanged glances.

"Daddy is right. People don't understand."

"Why did Daddy have to live in a very dark place?"

"Because people did very bad things to Daddy, and he did what he could to stop them. He didn't have a very nice life before we came along."

Ignoring the conversation, Lady Murasaki moved quietly around the room stripping the sheets from the crib to prepare the room for their trip.

Adoration in his eyes, Devyni stroked his mother's cheek as she brushed his hair.

"Daddy said when he was young he didn't always have enough to eat."

Clarice paused. She set the brush down.

"That is true. There was a war. Daddy's parents weren't able to take care of him."

The look in the boy's eyes showed a depth of feeling far exceeding his chronological age.

"That makes me sad for him. Daddy told me that nearly everything on earth is either an animal a plant or a mineral."

She looked over to Hannibal's aunt. Where was this conversation going?

"Yes. That's very basic, but it's true."

Devyni's mind processed quickly.

"That would make people animals?"

"Yes."

"We eat plants and animals."

"Yes."

"Animals are meat."

She wanted to qualify her response, but thought it might invite additional questions, so instead she answered simply, "Yes."

"If animals are meat and people are animals, are people meat?"

How to best respond? Hannibal had this discussion with his son with obvious intent and that thought made Clarice uncomfortable. She knew her husband and knew exactly where the conversation would lead.

"Yes, Dev. Some animals eat people."

Unconcerned with the statement, Devyni continued, "Daddy told me the animals that eat people are called predators, then he made me laugh."

"And what did Daddy do to make you laugh?"

"He roared like a lion then he showed me his teeth and pretended to bite me. He bit up and down my arm and my belly, it tickled so much that I laughed very hard. Daddy can be so very silly."

_You told me he remembers everything he hears, H. Were you afraid you might not come back and you wanted him to hear it from you?_

"Yes. He can be very silly and when he's being silly, he makes me very happy."

"He makes me very happy, too."

Lady Murasaki took young Hannibal by the hand.

"Come, young Master Lecter. It's a lovely day. We can take a walk and visit your pony. We won't be seeing him for several months. Would you like to ride him one last time? I can lead you around the corral if you like."

"Yes. I'd love to ride, thank you." He turned to his mother. "Please bring Daddy back, Mommy. I don't want to go to Maryland without him."

"Me neither, Dev. Me neither."

* * *

Now that Hannibal understood Chavez's men were on alert, he skirted the building. He came upon a large heap of trash. The snorkel and mask were outside.

_They've cleaned the cell? That does not bode well. _

He sorted through the pile and quickly pulled out a plastic water bottle, the snorkel and mask, and a roll of industrial adhesive tape. He moved to the area they burned Peter's body and gathered fistfuls of charcoal, stuffing the material in the bottle. He then used his Harpy to cut the snorkel, attaching the severed end to the bottle with the tape. He carried the object along with the diver's mask with him. Sneaking along the outer wall he ducked low to recon the security posted. There were several men congregating in the main area but there were lookouts at each door.

Finding the window of the bathroom partially opened, Hannibal pushed the window upward and lightly dropped the handmade equipment into the room. He then pulled himself through the opening.

_When God closes a door he opens a window... _

Hannibal tugged on a pair of rubber gloves, lowered the lid and stepped onto the commode. Placing his palms flat on the suspending ceiling, he pressed upward and pushed aside one of the suspended ceiling panels. Dipping his head within the space.

_Thankfully, the materials are still in place._

He reached into the space to retrieve two large jugs of fluid, setting them on the tank. Hopping from the seat bent low and turned the water off behind the commode. The bathroom was directly attached to a smaller room off the main workspace. From the window Hannibal could see several men sleeping inside. He would have to be very quiet. Not being able to flush the toilet as the sound might alert before he intended Hannibal, used a cup to empty the contents of the tank and bowl. He then spun his thumbs across the lids of the jugs, loosening them. He poured a light blue liquid used for cleaning bathrooms directly into the bowl. The scent wouldn't attract attention.

Hannibal very carefully scrubbed the mouthpiece of the snorkel, going as far as to soak the end thoroughly using a water and bleach mixture. He rinsed it carefully.

The preparations nearly completed he lifted the lid of the upper tank and filled the reservoir with bleach. Returning the now-empty jugs to the ceiling, he replaced the tile and returned the lid to the tank. That complete he banged on the door several times with his fist and hastily retreated through the window. Scampering up a nearby tree, Hannibal hid within the boughs and watched.

The sound attracted two men. They looked at one another.

"You heard it too, right?"

"Someone banging on the inside of the bathroom door? Yeah, I heard it."

The men reached for their weapons, each carrying a semi-automatic handgun. They very slowly approached the bathroom door, stepped inside and looked around.

"Maybe an animal climbed out the window?"

"It doesn't matter, whatever it was, it's gone now. Wait outside. I've got to go."

"No, you wait. I gotta go too!"

"I'm about to wet myself. I drank too much. Just move to the side. We can both go."

"Fine, but keep your eyes to yourself."

"As if you have anything I want to see."

Setting their weapons on the top of the tank, the men began to urinate, one finishing before the other. He flushed as the last man chased the water with his stream. As he tucked himself into his trousers and turned to wash his hands he leaned heavily against the wall. His head swam.

"Is it hot in here?"

The second man adjusted himself and tugged up his zipper. He began to cough. "I'm not…hot…I'm…dizzy…I'm…"

Mouth falling open, his eyes rolled. Falling backward against the door he slid to the floor. His friend turned, confused. He reached as if attempting to help the man, but as he bent toward the ground, he too, slowly collapsed.

Both men, overcome by the toxic fumes of the combined chemicals, were soon unconscious; their bodies huddled in a pile in front of the door.

_Breathe deeply, my friends. Soon your brains will be fully starved of oxygen and you will join Chavez. _

Placing the swim mask over his eyes, Hannibal placed the mouthpiece between his lips, now breathing air filtered through the charcoal. Fully protected, he reentered the window and locked the bathroom door from the inside. After searching each man and removing their weapons, he then climbed out the window and closed it, trapping the men and the poisonous chemicals within the room. They would be dead in minutes.

_Two down. Seven to go. _

* * *

Hannibal Lecter waited in the woods. As the morning sun arced across the sky he wondered what his wife was doing. He'd neglected her breakfast. The thought of it nagged at him, but it was more important to tend to this. Barney had texted confirming he would gladly meet her flight. If he could resolve this soon, he might be able to join his family. If not, he would remain behind and see this through.

_You will have seen my letter by now. What are you thinking, Clarice? It was not in your nature to wait…this might prove difficult for you, my warrior._

After an hour of waiting, Hannibal saw an opportunity to bridge the building. The man watching the door on the side of the building where the loft access was located fell asleep.

_Have you been here all night, my friend? Your respite will be briefly interrupted, but I assure you when I'm finished, your rest will be eternal._

So low he was essentially snaking along the ground, Hannibal crawled up on his unassuming target. The man, soundly sleeping, rested on the wooden step with his head awkwardly leaning against the roughly hewn handrail. Ducking low under the rail, Hannibal looked around for an opportunity to avoid using his Harpy. Turning his head he quickly sighted the kettle bells that had once been stored in the cell tossed in a pile of trash.

_You've removed everything from the stall? I wonder who raised the alert? That is a person I will need to take very seriously. _

Stretching so far backward that he was fully prone, Hannibal grasped the handgrip with both hands, stretching out fully on his back, fingers tightening to encircle the handle of the weight. Leaving his arms fully extended, Hannibal hooked his feet between the balusters of the staircase and pulled. Tightening his abdominal muscles, Hannibal bent his body upward into a sit-up, swinging the kettle bell well over his head. As the weight swung upward and outward, Hannibal directed the arc. The grip rolled in his palm even as the weight ball began descending. The sound of the weight caving the man's skull thudded as the heavy sphere collapsed bone into brain. Releasing the weight, Hannibal's mouth turned upward. A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The man's head was now concave, the head resting within the cranial well. Blood oozed,

_And then there were six…_

Checking the man for weapons Hannibal discovered a .45 and a very small derringer tucked in the man's sock. He also removed a large and exceptionally sharp Bowie knife from a sheath strapped to the man's calf. Not able to leave the body in plain view, Hannibal rolled the man from the stairs. He then removed the lattice attached to the wooden porch, rolled the man beneath the decking, and replaced the lattice. He then brushed a limb over his footprints and dashed into the building, quickly climbing up to his blind in the loft. Huddling within the darkened place he reached for his cell phone.

As fit as she was, Clarice did not dare park in the isolated area Hannibal showed her on their brief hunting trip. Nearly eight months pregnant, it wouldn't be wise to take the chance of walking or jogging an extended distance. If she went into labor in such an isolated area she might have trouble attempting to contact Hannibal. Cell phone reception was spotty at best and she couldn't chance calling his phone knowing his actions were covert. No, instead she drove directly to the Cervelli farm and parked behind an outbuilding several hundred yards from the manufacturing facility.

It was nearly noon. Though there wasn't much time, she sat in her car and waited. Suddenly the phone in her purse began to hum. She retrieved the phone and read the message:

_My errand is going well. I am shopping for our trip and have completed several purchases. There are six more items on my list. I will contact you again in one hour. I'm so sorry to have left before you woke. I owe you breakfast in bed, my Love._

_Ever yours, H._

Clarice smiled. Her reply:

_Bacon. Lots and lots of bacon._

Hannibal smiled. Tucking the phone away, his nostrils flared. Hannibal was not alone.

_**Until the next chapter, my friends!**_

_**LH**_


	57. Chapter 57

**Author's note:** to Crazy Chemist. My ongoing appreciation- I truly value your friendship and look forward to your reviews. To my new twitter followers and dear fanfic friends- thanks for keeping me company all throughout the day and night! It has been awesome participating in our Hannimania. For my dear friend, Lusting4Lecter, you keep me sane and Lord knows that's a full-time job. Twin! For my good friend, Major Bachman- rest and recuperate!

**THE MOUSE AND THE HAWK **

Though the scent was faint, Hannibal could feel the presence.

_Someone is on the ladder._

Though Hannibal's nostrils continued to pinch and flare gathering all the information his senses could process, he did not move. Instead he closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles. Tension had no place here if his mind was to remain clear.

There was a flapping over his shoulder. A bat winging within the gabled roof must have been disturbed. The fleeing animal's echolocation was no more accurate than Hannibal's own senses. He, too, could feel the man's presence as if the pathways of his nervous system were sympathetic to those of the intruder. Eyes still closed, Hannibal's heart thumped slowly. He swore he could feel the pounding of the man's heart within his own chest. He waited. The scent moved away.

_This man may be wiser than the rest. Perhaps he suspects but has intelligence enough not to approach. I will have to move swiftly if I am to remain undetected. _

Waiting until the scent was gone, Hannibal crept from his hiding place.

_Something moved. The bat must have disturbed an object. _

Looking around, he spotted a single-whip block and tackle, recently used, swinging from the center ridgeboard of the interior roofline. A rope leading from the pulley system had been discarded, left dangling in a coil midway across the main rafter. Hannibal looked below. A man was sleeping on a ladder-back chair, his head tilted at an awkward angle as he snored off the alcohol in his stomach.

_He is sleeping soundly. It may be possible to walk across the beam and gather the rope without drawing attention. _

Dashing across the loft, Hannibal quickly set his feet on the crossbeam, and, moving with the precision of a gymnast on a balance beam, hurried across the narrow timber. When he got to the halfway point, he bent low and reached beneath the coil careful not to let the rope unfurl. Stepping gingerly to avoid losing his balance, he carried it cautiously to the other side.

Resting against a batten, Hannibal looped the free end of the rope and began to fashion a snare. As if giving no more consideration to the action than a man dipping a baited hook in a stream, he lowered the hooped trap around the sleeping man's neck. Walking the rope as if trawling a stream, he very slowly tugged, the rough cord tightening with the slightest pressure.

Wrapping the lead around his forearm and wrist, Hannibal yanked. The action lifted the gangster to a semi-standing position. With no witnesses in the area, as the man woke from his drunken stupor clawing at the pinched rope and struggling to stretch his feet to the ground, Hannibal smiled.

_Would you provide me a moment's entertainment, my trussed friend?_

Dipping the tether just enough for the man's feet to light upon the ground he provided a split-second of stability before tugging him to his tiptoes denying full relief. Repeating the process, Hannibal bobbed the man up and down, toying with him for several minutes.

_You look more like a marionette than a man. _

A gust of air allowed a stream of scents to flow beneath the loft's opening.

_A door has opened…_

The knowledge ended Hannibal's playtime. With regret, he yanked the man with all his might, reeling him upward into the loft space. A look of confusion as the man's alcohol-addled mind seemed to struggle with his predicament. He twisted, struggling to work his now-bloodied fingertips, sanded raw from the rope. As the body lifted through the open rafters he soon spotted Hannibal. Wild eyes illustrated the victim's instant recognition.

"Ah, I see you know who I am. No matter. You'll not be long with the world as your breath is being denied you."

The man's eyes rolled.

Hannibal whipped the rope as he spun the man, binding him within the ever-tightening line much like he would wrap a roast. He took the excess rope and tied it around a beam to secure the now tightly bound man.

Mouth agape, swollen tongue now distending, like a fish flopping on a dock, the man began to kick and thrash as he gulped for air he sought but could not find. His body was now swinging so wildly the creaking from the block and tackle assembly became a concern. Needing to silence his prey, Hannibal reached over the open beams and gripped the rope, pulling the man close.

"You are making far too much noise for my comfort and safety. Though my Harpy would make quick work of the task, and I would certainly love to wet the blade, there would be far too much blood and that just won't do. No, this must be a hand's on experience. Forgive my intrusion into your personal space. Regrettably it is unavoidable."

Cupping his quarry's face very loosely within his hands he turned the head very slightly from side-to-side and closely examined the man's eyes.

"Hmmm, petechial hemorrhage present, though the purple flecks are very faint. Yes, you're fading even as we speak."

Stepping behind his target he crossed his left arm over the man's chest to grip the right shoulder. Next, he reached with his right to palm the forehead. Stepping in, Hannibal pulled until the man's back rested against his chest. His face alongside this soon-to-be-fatality, Hannibal hissed, "Not to worry. As you haven't directly offended, I will deliver your death mercifully."

Gripping tightly, Hannibal wrenched the man's head, cranking the neck well past its rotation tolerance. The loud crack signaled the efficiency of this fatal embrace.

There may have been a twitch. Hannibal was uncertain, far too absorbed was he with the collapsing of the man's body as the muscles ceased to receive signals from the brain.

Hannibal sighed.

_Death. So lovely._

* * *

It was a sunny day, windy more than warm. The fresh Argentinian air caught Clarice's hair, floating the tresses on gentle currents as she walked along the wooded perimeter encircling the manufacturing building. If her hand was in Hannibal's, the moment might have been perfect.

Shielded within the line of trees she used a pair of H's binoculars to spy the area. Scanning quickly she counted five men. There could be more within. There was no way to know. Might one come close enough to make an attack possible? Unlikely. That she couldn't see Hannibal would be a concern if the men appeared alerted. They did not.

She watched and waited. If the activity level changed, she would move. If not she would trust that her husband had everything in hand. Feeling the wind beginning to gust, Clarice stepped out away from the trees. She allowed the wind to waft around her body knowing she H was downwind.

"I'm here, H…I'm here."

* * *

Leaning precariously over the exposed beams, Hannibal stepped on a rafter and reached toward the center beam to shake loose the rope. That done he reached upward and unhooked the pulley system. Removing the rigging he crossed the loft and finding a large space between the inner and outer walls of the structure, lowered the block and tackle along with all of the rope within the open framework. Dragging the body to the back of the loft he rolled it within a large canvas tarp, lowering it too, within the space between the walls. Hannibal watched as the darkness swallowed the corpse.

_Now there are five. _

Straightening his body, Hannibal walked to the opening designed to lift hay into the loft. Peeking around the frame, careful not to be seen he searched his senses for any clue as to the position of the remaining men. As the wind carried toward him brushing across his cheeks like a gentle caress, he breathed deeply filling his lungs with the late April air. The scent of pine and Patagonian plant life mixed with the musk of alpaca fleece in the distance. Something too, mixing with the fleece, a kiss of something sweet. Something familiar. Hannibal's breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard.

_Clariiice…_

Was she hiding in the woods? Near the barn? On foot? His mind was overrun with infinite possibilities.

_Perhaps they have her? No. The scent is solitary. Uncorrupted. She is safe._

His body relaxed.

_You couldn't stay away, could you? Have you charged yourself to be ever my protector, my Love? Almost nine months with our daughter so very close to her birth. This is not your place._

He thought for a moment. He was wrong. This was her place, by his side. Always.

A mixture of pride, love and fear flooded his system. He breathed deeply allowing himself a moment to indulge as her scent mixed with his sense memories. He could feel her body. Her heart beating against his chest…the scent of her hair as the breezes floated over her sleeping form, carrying the smell of her sweetness to him. She was magnificent, his Clarice. He opened his eyes. A blink. The realization that such feelings would bring nothing more than distraction. He pushed the emotions connected to his senses aside but kept the scent present. He would know where she was at all times.

* * *

The old man felt the surge of bile rising up the back of his throat. His stomach burned. He placed his hand on his head, rubbing it gently to bring him comfort, though there was none to be found. When he moved his hand away, a palmful of hair came with it. The gorge pushed upward. Warm saliva flooded his mouth.

Running to the bathroom he attempted to open the door. He would vomit soon. He did not wish to disgrace himself by soiling his clothing. Grasping the knob he turned and pushed. The door was locked. Rushing outside he bent at the waist just below the bathroom window. The heaving was dry at first. Several wretches brought forth nothing. Suddenly, the flood of food and wine surged upward, fountaining from his mouth. The flow was merciless. He leaned against the wall. He coughed up blood.

It took a long time before the old man could stand. Angry he was forced outside to spill the contents of his stomach, wanting to curse the occupant, he peeked into the bathroom window. There were bodies. Wilfredo and Alzaya, unmoving.

Aloud and to no one in particular, he spoke. "He is here...San La Muerte, please, bless me. Hannibal Lecter. He is here."

* * *

Again, the same scent…the same noise on the ladder. Hannibal leaned backward against the wall thankful he had constructed a blind within the space. Still, his position would be revealed if the person investigated thoroughly. He breathed deeply, once more gathering information.

_It is the old man. _

The old man ascended the ladder and stood within the space. Keeping his voice very low, he spoke in hushed tones, "Though you are wise, and I am lowly...If I were the hawk, I would seek a high perch."

He hunched, a clear attempt to appear smaller and perhaps even less threatening as he feebly shuffled forward. He continually stroked his grey beard, though now it was falling away from his face, wisps floating like nested folds to the ground.

"Being a lowly mouse, _if _I were in the company of the hawk, I would do well to remember my place."

Again, he stepped forward to nothing but silence.

He continued to talk. "Though I am old, I value my life. To the hawk, I am no threat. Knowing your reputation, I have come to ask for medical advice. Doctor Lecter, I find I am having stomach issues. I vomited. There was blood. I passed my hand through my hair and a came up with a very large clumps. My once-proud beard is thinning. Knowing this is unnatural, I am worried for my health. There are many rats in the area in need of extermination. I, a lowly mouse, fear I have inadvertently ingested the poison meant for them. Knowing the hawk wouldn't feel threatened by one as humble as myself. I ask his pardon and beg for assistance."

Hannibal remained motionless. Silent.

_I wonder how much of the tainted wine you have ingested? _

The old man continued, "Mario is arrogant, and he is intelligent, but he underestimates you. I do not. The men have not slept. Exhaustion will soon overcome the few that remain. That and the food…or perhaps it was the wine you provided. It would be very unlike Chavez to provide the repast we enjoyed. His tastes are not as…refined. I do not wish to die. Neither do you, I am certain. Perhaps we can help one another? If you allow me my life, I will remove one from the fray for you."

Hannibal spoke very quietly from within the blind.

"How much did you drink much last night?"

"A humble glass, perhaps two. No more."

"That is unfortunate. If I prescribed medication, would you trust to take it?"

"From your comments, I will assume the wine was drugged. If that is true, yes, Doctor Lecter, I would trust to take it. Are you offering me that option?"

Hannibal stood from within the blind. His stillness mirrored the calm of his mind. He considered the threat the old man posed. He was a survivor, this man. He would prove useful if he could reduce the number by one. Two in fact, as the old man would no longer be numbered a threat.

"You would bargain with the devil for your life, Old One?"

"No, but I would ask the mercy of the agent of San La Muerte."

"Ask and ye shall receive."

"Mercy...dear Doctor..."

Doctor Hannibal Lecter reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a fairly large plastic bottle. With his still gloved hand, he offered the container to the old man.

"For your life, my mercy, that you may grow older still."

The old man took the bottle, clutching it to his heart. "A cure?"

Hannibal nodded.

"The antidote. If you are unable to swallow the capsules you may break them open and mix the contents in liquid or food. Each contains 500 milligrams of Prussian blue. Take three capsules per day for thirty days. Tell know one or my response will be swift and will have no antidote. Do you accept my terms?"

"Yes…yes…what was the…poison, if I may ask?"

"Thallium. The capsules will isolate the material within your intestines. If you take this as directed, you will pass the contaminant without incident."

He clutched the bottle as if his very soul was contained within.

"If I may indulge your patience further, will there be any side effects?"

"Some minor stomach issues, constipation. If you open the capsules to ingest the medication your teeth may blue. It is possible your waste may turn color as well, though it will not be harmful."

The old man stepped back, his movements tentative as he questioned, "And you will allow me to leave? Without incident?"

Hannibal stepped forward.

"_Will_ you leave without incident?"

"Yes. And as a show of good faith, as promised, I will remove a threat before I leave."

"If you can do so silently and without drawing suspicion you would have my gratitude."

The man stepped on the ladder never taking his eyes off Hannibal.

"Thank you, dear doctor, for finding this humble life worthy of sparing."

"The fact that you are humble makes your life worth sparing. Go now."

* * *

The old man crawled down the ladder. As he walked out the back door he clawed open the bottle and began to chew on a capsule.

The man guarding the door looked up. The old man smiled.

The guard, noticing the old man's teeth, commented sarcastically, "Did you drink so much wine your teeth turned color?"

The old man reached for a mallet, swinging it casually. "No. It is my new medication. I am old, you know."

"Yeah, you're so old you fart dust."

"Well, you know the old saying, ashes to ashes. Dust to..."

The old man swung the mallet, caving the side of the man's skull.

"…Dust." He dropped the mallet and covered the man's body with the large piles of trash they'd mucked from the cell. The old man, antidote clutched in his withered hand, went home to live another day.

_**Until the next chapter, my friends!**_

_**LH**_


	58. Chapter 58

**Marcus- for Majix Trixx**

**AND THEN THERE WERE THREE…**

Hannibal looked at his watch. Only two hours before the limo would arrive at the house. Two hours, and Clarice, if his senses were to be trusted, watched. Waited.

_Might you be of assistance, my Love?_

Hannibal reached for his cell phone. He texted:

_I am in the attic of our home and am wondering, what is the location of our 3 guests?_

Hannibal paused to give his wife the chance to process the number of men along with the opportunity to sight them. The phone soon buzzed.

_Can't fool you can I? Dev's room, music room, third man walking around the property. He is traveling south now passing the place where you park your car._

Brilliant.

_The third might be the easiest with which to contend. _

Climbing down the ladder, Hannibal slipped around the empty stalls, past the cell, out the door and ducked around the side of the building with ease. Knowing the location of the men was an advantage he did not have earlier. He could pick up their scents on the lower level, but the wind was swirling within the loft making accurate placement unreliable.

_Clarice, you are a godsend._

Based on his wife's description he understood the position of his foes in relation to her references to their home. Knowing he could move freely on the far side of the building, Hannibal stalked the exterior in search of a hiding place. The retreat needed to allow a clear vantage point and be near enough that the building could provide cover. If possible is should also offer camouflaged stowage to prevent the need to move the body.

_It is doubtful they would leave this area unguarded. Perhaps this was the gift the old man promised?_

Seeing the debris, Hannibal lifted a stick and poked at the waste causing a minor landslide of litter. As the trash fell away, Hannibal smiled. There was a shoe sticking out from beneath the refuse.

_I must say that is creative for a quick cover-up…well done._

Stepping back from the body he found precisely the right spot: the abandoned Farmall he'd hidden behind earlier. Having been left to rust approximately three meters beyond the side entrance, very tall grass had grown around and through it. The tractor was tilted at an awkward 40-degree angle. It appeared as if someone had run over a large flat-sided boulder causing the near upending of the vehicle. Rather than attempt to move it, the machine had been abandoned. A small conifer twisted from beneath, winding up from below the engine seeking its way toward the sunlight.

This will provide sufficient subterfuge. Hannibal ducked behind the machinery and awaited the arrival of his next target.

Settling in, he believed he would make quick work of this man. Every muscle and nerve attended as he listened to the footfalls. Stepping out from behind the tractor he bent low careful to remain hidden from his target. He withdrew his Harpy. Thumbing open the blade he waited for the man to pass. The moment his target stepped around the tractor, Hannibal was on him. In a split second, his arms and legs coiled around the man like a boa constrictor, quickly restricting his movements.

The man opened his mouth as if to scream but the sounds of words were interrupted by a brief shriek and replaced by a disturbing gurgle as the point of the Harpy pierced the man's throat. The razor-sharp edge of the weapon sliced through flesh, muscle and corded fibers as Hannibal severed the vocal cords with macabre precision.

As the good doctor continued to saw through the flesh, now parting like tepid butter beneath a heated blade, the man thrashed violently, shaking within Hannibal's death-hold. The trapped man's tongue began rolling and flapping within his mouth, the lower attachment of the lingual muscle having been severed by the reach of the blade's vicious hook.

_No…not now…_

He unceremoniously dropped the man to the ground and stepped over him. His nostrils flared.

_The boy? _

Hannibal turned to see Cervelli's son bouncing uncontrolled atop the same animal he himself had ridden.

_That's far too much horse for one with so little experience..._

The Cervelli boy leaned dangerously low, slipping back and forth, almost falling several times as he reached around the animal's neck. His head slammed against the horse's withers. His fingertips wriggled uselessly at the whip-like leather straps in a desperate attempt to reach the dropped reins, now dragging at the horse's side.

"Help! Help…God…help!"

The desperate young man had obviously been playing a game of pretend. He was wearing full gaucho gear. The belt buckled around his waist had coins and chains affixed to the hide. Bola's clashed across what were now, most likely, deeply bruised thighs. There was a red scarf tied around the boy's neck and a flat-topped hat currently lofting from the lash around his throat, rising like a kite behind him.

_That beautiful beast is far too advanced for your abilities. Riding an animal you've been denied because your father is not at home? Playing cowboy, alas, you're overmatched, both by the horse and the men you're about to encounter._

The animal was heading into the large open door of the manufacturing building and ran headlong into the large aisle leading to the cell.

_It must have been stabled here before Chavez took over the building. The animal must have been spooked and is returning to a familiar place. The animal may indeed escape, but they won't be kind to the boy. _

Suddenly, there were sounds. Harsh hisses followed by aching gasps. Painful noises to most but to Hannibal, a symphony.

Turning, he looked and listened as the half-dead man on the ground began to crawl, gurgling and foaming as he attempted to drag himself from danger. Hannibal would have to tend to this before seeking out the boy.

"Where do you intend to travel? Alas, the gate to hell is not in that direction."

Searching the area, Hannibal tugged away at the weeds to find the vehicle had rolled over a large series of cinderblocks and over a sectioned beam most likely used as some sort of a wooden support. The beam was wedged beneath the frame of the tractor and was braced against the building. The beam gave him an idea.

"Perhaps I might assist. In the words of Archimedes, give me a lever and I can move the world. Conversely, I may be able to use this lever to remove you from _this _world."

Hannibal squeezed his body between the building and the Farmall, bracing the beam against his chest and collarbone. Shoving his shoulder hard against the seasoned timber, he drove his legs, the pumping of his muscles providing the catalyst to move the limb. Aging muscles still responding to his every request, his stomach and chest walls tightened, his breathing focused, unstrained even as the workload increased. Needing a final surge, Hannibal growled, forcing his hips forward, tipping the tractor enough to flip the vehicle. He could feel the machine beginning to budge.

The tractor, rusted metal stressing, groaned as it moved.

As the force generated by the beam shifted the tractor, the man, dwarfed by its shadow, flopped onto his back. Shoulders slamming into the grass, jaw agape, his eyes widened with ever increasing terror.

Hannibal smiled.

"I must say the essence of your dread is particularly delicious. I thank you for that. In exchange for that pleasure, I think it is only polite to announce the felling of the tractor on your person. If you will indulge my curiosity, I'd like to hear your feelings on a particular matter. Would using the word _timber _to announce the toppling be in bad taste?"

Arching his back and throwing his body forward once more, Hannibal asked all of his muscles as he imposed his will on the massive beam. The wooden beam he tractor pitched past its center and heaved, creaking and aching, toward his panicked prey.

Seeing the massive machine pitching and yawing as it tipped toward him, the half-dead man lifted his arms. Flapping and flailing in pathetic desperation, his head shook in disbelief. His tongue flagellated wildly, spinning violently within the fountaining bubbles of blood frothing up from within his mouth and pouring down both sides of his face.

Tiring of the scene, Hannibal pushed.

"Time for you to die. Ta-ta."

Leaping onto the tractor to both enjoy the view and provide added force, Hannibal gripped the steering wheel and rode the machine over its arc. Bending at the knees, he bounced down hard to encourage more speed. Riding the crest, he leaned over and watched closely as the massive tire of the tractor fell to the ground, pulverizing the man's head, chest and neck. The pop of the skull and the crunching of bone blatantly announced the man's fate.

_It is doubtful I need worry about my indulgence with the Harpy. Any evidence created is no longer likely to be a problem._

The phone in Hannibal's pocket hummed. Taking it out, he dragged his finger over the screen to read Clarice's message:

_They have the boy. H, I can't get there fast enough. _

Typing with lightening speed, Hannibal's thumbs raced across the screen.

_Stay put, my Love. Do not intercede._

Clarice's response:

_They're hurting him. Hurry._

* * *

Hannibal rounded the corner to find Mario and Chavez's second-in-command, Wilfredo, manhandling the boy. As they shoved him back and forth between them Wilfredo screamed obscenities as Mario whipped at the boy's body mercilessly with a leather lash.

"Fucking retard! You'll ruin everything! Hannibal Lecter could show up at any moment and we're dealing with a your ignorant ass. You're lucky we have lookouts posted or I'd kill you for risking our lives to handle you! You were told never to come back."

"I'm…I didn't mean to come here…I didn't…"

The boy was spun in circles, his palms on his head, fingers threading through his hair to keep hold as he peeked between his forearms in an attempt to shield his face from the onslaught. He was sobbing, blood and tears pouring down his face as he implored, "I didn't do it on purpose…the horse…I couldn't control him…He used to sleep here…the horse…please…you're hurting me."

Mario continued to whip the boy, face now bloodied with cuts where the licks of the lash had carved his flesh.

Looking around the room Hannibal could plainly see there was no place for cover. No way to aid the boy without being seen. Realizing he was out of choices he tossed his cell phone into the hay within the cell. He didn't want anyone to read the messages from Clarice in the event he was taken, which, if he was going to help the boy, was appearing very likely.

As Mario lifted his arm across his chest to once more raise the whip, Hannibal took out Chavez's cell phone and pressed redial. Mario's phone began to ring.

Waving an arm signaling that Wilfredo should deal with the boy, Mario dropped the whip on the ground and retrieved his phone, responding, "Where are you? We've been waiting."

Hannibal stepped out from the shadows. Speaking into the phone, he responded loud enough to be heard in the room, "So sorry to keep you waiting. As you can see, I am here. Hannibal Lecter, at your service."

Most likely confused, not only that the voice was coming from the phone and from within the room, but too, that it wasn't Chavez, Mario spun around.

The moment their eyes met, Hannibal winked and waved Chavez's phone in the air.

Mario's lip twitched. "But…the phone?" His eyes mirroring his confusion, Mario questioned, "Where's Chavez?"

Wiping the prints from the phone, Hannibal then dropped the device on the ground.

"Assuming that isn't a rhetorical question I shall be happy to respond. He is in the same location as the rest of your friends."

Lifting his leg, Hannibal wagged his foot above the phone as he pondered his foe's disrespect. He was, in essence, surrendering to this man. The thought of it rankled. This man was unworthy of Hannibal's pain.

Withdrawing his gun and growing more impudent by the moment, Mario's words were pregnant with challenge, daring, "Where did they go, old man?"

Hannibal's leg dropped like a hammer, annihilating the phone. "Straight to hell, I'm certain. It has come down to the two of you."

As Hannibal's leg fell, so did Wilfredo, dropping to his knees as he began to vomit uncontrollably.

Rolling his eyes, Mario ignored what he believed was friend's response to a night of heavy drinking. Instead, he focused on Hannibal. "Where is Marcus?"

Head inclining slightly, Hannibal responded, "Marcus? I'm not familiar."

Mario showed little patience, asserting, "_Marcus._ He's the old man."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Hannibal replied, "I allowed the old one to leave."

The concept that Hannibal might grant one of them permission to leave the premises was clearly foreign to Mario. His brow was furrowed as if he might be confused. "Why would you do that?"

"Because it pleased me to do so." Pointing to Wilfredo, Hannibal added, "Your friend appears quite ill."

"He drank a lot. He'll feel better in a few minutes."

A wry smile pulled across the good doctor's face. "I doubt it. How are you feeling?"

Mario stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He reached behind his back feeling for his gun. "I feel fine."

Seeing the motion Hannibal remained unconcerned. "Did you have much to drink?"

Mario slowly closed his hand around the grip. "None."

Hannibal waited. The gun would be tugged free very soon. He was unafraid. "And why is that?"

Lifting the gun from his waistband, Mario extended his arm to reveal the weapon. "I don't drink with people I don't trust and Chavez can't be trusted. Neither can you."

"Indeed."

He pointed the gun at Hannibal. "You know where I'm taking you, don't you?"

"You won't be taking me anywhere, but if you release the boy, I shall go willingly."

Mario waved his gun, "Go on, retard. Get your ass out of here."

"But…no…he's my friend. Doctor Lecter is my friend."

Hannibal spoke kindly to the young man, urging, "I am your friend, and as your friend I'm asking you to leave."

The boy stepped between Hannibal and Mario.

"No. No!"

Touched by the boy's bravery, Hannibal put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him aside.

"Go. Now, before it's too late. If you are indeed my friend, you'll do as I ask."

Mario pushed the boy, yelling, "Get the hell out of here! Now!"

"Go...I'll be by to check on you before I leave. Trust me."

"Okay...okay..." Sobbing, the boy left the building.

Not a foolish man, Mario was careful not to get too close. "Walk ahead to the cell, Lecter. I'm not foolish enough to get anywhere near that hooked blade of yours."

Wanting to gauge Mario's intentions, Hannibal probed, "If you intend to kill me, you needn't stand on ceremony."

"Oh, I intend to kill you, but not any time soon…not any time soon."

Hannibal had his answer. Now all he needed was Clarice.

_**Until the next chapter, my friends! **_

_**LH**_


	59. Chapter 59

_**THERE IS ONLY CLARICE…**_

Under gunpoint, Hannibal walked toward the cell. Not that it bothered him. It certainly wasn't the first weapon leveled at the back of his head, nor did he expect it to be the last. Hell, he'd spent years at Baltimore State Forensic Hospital performing every task imaginable under the threat of one weapon or another, and when there were no weapons, there were cameras. Frankly, their presence was cause for far more disturbance, as the good doctor considered the loss of his privacy more insidious than any threat of violence.

_Though I know your instinct is to protect, stay away, Clarice. It is too soon. Stay away._

His muscles flooded with adrenalin. He could feel his fingertips tingle, deadening as his body, unprompted, recalled the sense memory of handcuffs cinched too tight. He flexed and tightened his hands, alternately splaying and clenching his fingers into fists, attempting to vent the sensation that was far too persistent.

_Curious. One would think such sensations would have been long forgotten…it is as if the manacles have already been secured._

Mario barked his orders, screaming, "Move your ass, Lecter. I don't have all day."

Hannibal, unconcerned for his own safety, very carefully sidestepped a large rope dangling from the loft that pooled beneath the straw. He stood very still in the center of the stall with his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

Rocking on his heels, Hannibal offered, "Actually, I would dearly like to get on with this as I have a plane to catch, so it seems we are both pressed for time."

Mario countered, "I don't mean I'm in a hurry to be finished. I'm in a hurry to begin. I'm going to take my time with you. I should thank you for eliminating so many of my parters. Now I don't have to share any of this season's profits many others."

Hannibal stepped backward slightly, countering, "That is because there _are_ no others."

Shaking his head in disagreement, Mario clicked his tongue and wagged a finger, correcting sarcastically, "I guess you can't count, Lecter. Are you getting so old you forgot? There's still Wilfredo."

Standing directly in front of the entrance to the cell, Hannibal turned, making quite a show of rotating his head in order to see Wilfredo, now positioned on all fours, vomiting. The ill man's head bobbed as heaving spasms lurched his body, spine arching upward with each wretch, appearing more like a frightened cat than a man. After four or five episodes, his stomach no longer produced vomitus but instead sprayed bile and spatters of blood across the ground.

A knowing smile evolved. With a mischievous lilt in his voice, Hannibal wheedled, "Not for long, I think."

Defensive, Mario questioned, "So? What? You want me to cry about it?"

Hannibal blinked slowly. When he opened his eyes, sparks of red flying from the center swirling toward each pupil like hellfire, Hannibal hissed, "Neither the absence or presence of your tears shall affect me."

Mario visibly flinched, his voice trembling as he asserted, "Soon, I'll be making_ you_ cry."

Hannibal's head inclined slightly. "Really? Do you have onions that need dicing?"

Mario didn't recognize the subtly of Hannibal's satire, scoffing, "Don't be ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous is expecting me to respond in a manner not befitting my intelligence, self-control or station in life."

Possibly wanting to assert his dominance though the effort was clearly wasted on Hannibal, Mario brandished the weapon, waving it carelessly over his head.

"You think you're so tough…soon you'll be begging to die."

Ignoring the man's assertions, Hannibal's nostrils flared. Lifting his chin he allowed his head to oscillate slightly, gathering the aromas flooding the space.

"I note the your hand exhibits a slight tremor and you reek of fear. Perhaps the weapon is necessary to provide the confidence you yourself lack?"

Mario shuddered. Hannibal was getting under his skin, though he seemed to be making every effort to hide that fact with false bravado as he warned, "Crying like a baby…mark my words!"

Seeking to further provoke, in full sardonic splendor, Hannibal winked and opening his arms wide, waved his hands in small circles toward himself, beckoning even as he mocked, "Your words are duly marked. Though it is doubtful that I will shed any tears, I wholeheartedly invite you to try."

Mario kicked with anger at the hay lining the cement slab flooring. Hannibal's eyes shifted as the rope in the center of the room swayed. His eyes quickly clicked back to Mario, now ranting as he pointed the weapon from Hannibal's head to the floor and back up again.

"Just shut the fuck up and get on the ground face down with your arms behind your back. I want to see that your hands are empty, so make sure you keep them palms up."

"As you wish."

Not an unusual position for a man with experience behind bars, Hannibal quickly complied.

Mario approached Hannibal cautiously.

"I'm warning you. I can just as easily pull the trigger now, so don't you dare fucking move!"

Calmly, Hannibal assured, "Trust me. I wouldn't dream of it."

Pressing his weapon to Hannibal's temple, Mario used his free hand to search Hannibal's lower body. The man's touch was extremely intrusive. Aggressive even. The good doctor had been searched more times than he cared to remember, but there was customarily an implied professionalism in the touch. Gloved hands. Not personal.

This was extremely personal. A highly combative individual was running his bare hands over Hannibal's body and legs aggressively, intrusively even, smoothing his palms over the inner thighs and awkwardly probing his groin from behind. Though the contact offended, Hannibal didn't flinch.

Straightening, Mario kicked Hannibal's leg.

"Roll onto your back."

The Harpy was still in his sleeve. He needed to rid himself of the weapon and stow it before it was found, but Mario wasn't as agitated as required for the plan to succeed. Scenarios tumbled within Hannibal's brilliant mind. He quickly sorted through dozens of possibilities, assessing the likely success or failure of each until he came upon what seemed most likely to help him attain his goal.

_You are both arrogant and aggressive. Baiting you should prove successful. You respect strength, so I shall be forced to spar more directly._

Grasping the gun with both hands, Mario bent low and pressed the barrel to Hannibal's temple. The muzzle was cold and vibrated against Hannibal's skull, the trembling of the handgun clearly illustrating the owner's agitation.

"Okay, Lecter. Unbuckle your belt and open your trousers. I want to make sure you don't have anything tucked in your pants before I search your chest and arms."

A devilish glint flickered as Hannibal goaded, "I do have something tucked in my trousers, and while I appreciate the compliment your interest expresses, it isn't anything I'd care to share with you."

Mario stood looking forward with an extremely vacant expression, possibly considering the implications of the comment. A little slow on the uptake, the moment his eyes flashed understanding, he viciously kicked at Hannibal's legs.

"Just do what you're told. When all this is settled, I'm gonna enjoy this."

Chuckling, Hannibal performed the action precisely as he was told, unbuckling his belt and opening his slacks. He parted his trousers wide enough to reveal his boxers, joking, "Yes, that is typically my wife's response as well, but she is normally unclothed and in my arms kissing me as she's makes her demands. Not that I'm inviting you to do the same. I am not only fully heterosexual, but am fully monogamous so I'm afraid I must apologize and beg your pardon, gunpoint or not. Wilfredo has assumed an appropriate position. Perhaps he is of a mind to fulfill your needs in that regard."

Mario raged, "Seriously? Are you really this stupid? Jesus Christ! I thought you were supposedly a smart guy? Just shut the fuck up or I'll pump your skull full of bullets."

"Supposedly smart? Hmm, I'm disappointed I've made such a poor impression. Perhaps I'll earn your respect before I stop your heart."

Mario began rooting around in Hannibal's trousers searching for a weapon.

Though he didn't protest, Hannibal shifted slightly to keep Mario's hand from blatant molestation.

Now satisfied there was nothing hidden in the waistband or trousers, Mario directed his attention toward the feet and quickly removed Hannibal's shoes and socks.

Most likely admiring the style, Mario looked carefully at the shoes, turning them over in his hand.

"What size are these shoes, Lecter?"

"Thirteen. Though I am normally size twelve, Prada shoes tend to run small."

Tossing them out of the cell, he taunted, "I'm a size eight. Damn! It's too bad you've got such big feet. I really liked those shoes."

"Ah…perhaps isn't that mine are overly big as much as yours are exceptionally small." Seeking to disrupt, Hannibal taunted, "And you know what they say about men with small feet?"

"Small feet?" Mario foolishly pursued.

"Yes. Small feet. Tiny..._weapon_."

Hannibal immediately received the reaction he sought.

Angered by the less-than-veiled reference to his genitalia, Mario cocked his leg. Swinging it with as much force as he could muster he kicked Hannibal's side between his lower ribs and hipbone. Prepared for the blow, Hannibal rolled with the motion, the force no longer as extreme as the attacker intended. Disguising the impact of the blow, Hannibal flipped onto his back. Feigning injury, he scrambled on all fours until he reached the back wall of the stall. Ejecting the Harpy from his sleeve he tucked it beneath the strewn straw.

Now pretending to cower in fear with his back to Mario, he skimmed his hand beneath the loose hay and searched the seam where the wall and floor joined. His fingers danced along the ground falling upon the object he sought. He tucked the small item beneath his wedding ring.

Mario called back to Wilfredo, "If you're done puking, I need your help here. Get your gun and cover me. I've got to chain him up and I'm not getting any closer without another gun pointed at this crazy motherfucker."

Wilfredo, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, mumbled, "I feel like shit…I think I…I think I had too much too drink…too…much."

Hannibal lifted his face from the floor, commenting, "You'd had too much to drink after the first mouthful."

The man stood, his legs as wobbly as a newborn foal, knees knocking as he barked, "Fuck you, Lecter."

"It is you who is fucked."

Mario nudged Hannibal with the barrel of the gun, poking him mercilessly as he questioned, "Where's that eagle's talon you call a weapon?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I dropped it somewhere in this building."

Not a lie.

"You dropped it? Take off your shirt. I want to make sure you don't have it tucked up that infamous sleeve of yours."

Hannibal complied, teasing, "I find myself wondering just how many times I shall be forced to rebuff your advances."

He tossed the shirt to Mario. "Perhaps you'd enjoy a keepsake."

Mario gripped the shirt in a bundle and threw it to the ground.

"Keep pushing your luck and see where it gets you."

Hannibal bowed. "My apologies."

Wilfredo hand was shaking as he leveled the weapon on Hannibal.

"Go ahead, Mario. Chain him up before I start puking again."

Mario stepped forward and quickly hooped the wide-linked chain around Hannibal's body several times. Hannibal's hands were trapped behind his back. A large padlock was clicked closed to hold the chains firmly in place.

Mario circled his captor, mocking, "How does it feel to be back in chains once more knowing you'll never see the sunlight again?"

Hannibal allowed the man to loom without engaging him with any eye contact.

"I've been told that before."

"And how does it make you feel?"

"I feel perfectly fine. As you are now, they lied."

"Yeah, well…we'll see."

"We will indeed."

Mario turned to Wilfredo.

"Go get that cattle prod. Let's see if he has as high a tolerance for pain as they all say he has."

Wilfredo passed the electrified rod to Mario. Activating the device, Mario took the tip and drove it deep within Hannibal's side. The sound was distracting. The buzzing sent warning signals from the device through Hannibal's skin, surging from the site of impact along every nerve ending. Just for an instant, his mind screamed. He then closed the door to the pain.

Hannibal allowed his eyes to slowly flutter closed as he left the intense discomfort behind his lids. Stepping backward slowly, he withdrew from this event, leaving his body even as his mind traveled elsewhere.

Hannibal whispered softly, "Ecce Deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur mihi…."

_Behold a god more powerful than I, who comes to rule over me…_

It was a wonderful summer day he'd chosen from his memory palace. Fully nude, Hannibal was resting under a tree reading Dante. Clarice, muscles lean, body firm, lay naked beneath a blanket asleep beside him. Her head rested on his chest, post-coital sleep enveloping her mind even as one arm coiled around his body. Her relaxed hand slipped just inside his thigh grazing his sated member, glistening in the warm sun. He bowed his head and traced his nose within the soft tresses of her hair gently parting the soft curls. Resting his cheek against hers he breathed deeply, his nostrils flooding with the heady scent of their lovemaking. His heart pounded.

_Stay with me, my Love. Keep me from this pain…_

As the prod seared his flesh, his nerve endings burned with passion. His stomach quivered, jumping as his sleeping wife slowly exhaled, the gentle shudder of air expressed so lightly, so sweetly, the sigh caused Hannibal's flesh to harden.

_You are mine…mine alone…_

Though Mario worked tirelessly to do him grievous harm, Hannibal barely noticed. Occasionally he opened his eyes, stepping behind them for a brief second to attend to Mario's place within the cell. While his eyes were closed he relied on his sense of smell. The rope in the center of the room was his only concern.

_Soon…too soon…_

Nothing existed within this space. This time did not belong to Mario. It belonged to Clarice, as she was far more entertaining than the torment currently being imposed. She brought calm to the maelstrom within his mind. Though his body was in the hands of another, his Love was in his arms. Though Mario worked feverishly to disrupt his calm, driving the prod mercilessly into unprotected flesh, Hannibal showed no outward signs of disturbance.

_There is no pain. There is only Clarice… _

Count Hannibal Lecter, descendant of Hannibal the Grim, eighth of his line to carry the name, silently prepared for the moment he would attack. Until then, he was fully content in the arms of his lover.

_Clariiice…_

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	60. Chapter 60

**Author's note: Enjoy the chapter, my friends! It is the culmination of quite a lot of research (aren't they all) so I hope you enjoy it. Our H is creative for sure. I find I must work very diligently just to keep up with him! ;)**

**AND THEN THERE WAS ONE…**

The sound of the rope wavering and the musky aroma of shifting hay alerted Hannibal. His eyes opened with the speed and intensity of a flash of lightning. With gunfire speed he scanned the room, his penetrating gaze touching on both Mario and Wilfredo as he sought their placement within the space.

Seeing the blazing crimson irises burning like lasers Mario jumped back, yelping like a dog whose tail had just been trampled. He was so frightened by the suddenness of Hannibal's sentience he withdrew the prod from the man's flesh and stood trembling alongside the rope, hyperventilating. Hand centered on his heaving chest he smoothed his palm in wide circles and took several large gulps of air. When it appeared he'd calmed, he shook his shoulders and set his jaw. Bravado. Clearly.

_Not yet. Not quite. Come…I won't bite._

Reading the knotted surface as if it were braille, Hannibal skimmed his fingers along the roughened timbers of the back wall until he detected a small object. Using the very tips of his fingers, with surgical precision, he pinched it forward until it dropped into his palm.

_Come, Mario…closer…cloooser…_

The preparation had been tedious, the work painstakingly slow. He'd spent weeks running the wire within the cell's crevices. The task couldn't be advanced more than a few inches at a time or he might have be seen. Now seeking to free the carefully hidden line, Hannibal tugged gently. Two slight pulls released an attachment that triggered the mechanism, letting out the spooled wire. Outwardly, he remained exceptionally still as he very discreetly rolled his wrist. The action wrapped the wire slowly around his right forearm until the line was pulled semi-taut.

Mario, regrouping from his embarrassing and less-than-manly reaction, puffed his chest. Attributing the affectation to a terrified man attempting to shore up his confidence, the humor was not wasted on Hannibal.

The frightened man's voice boomed, "So, you're awake?"

"Awake? Yes. I am now and have been."

"I thought I'd shocked you into a goddamned coma or something. I was about to tell Wilfredo to cover you while I call for an ambulance but then I thought to myself, why would I do that? I really want you dead."

Hannibal looked to Wilfredo, now curled into the fetal position in the far corner of the cell. He was rocking to self-comfort, moaning very quietly as the poison feathered its way through his system. The good doctor shifted his attention from Wilfredo to Mario and cocked his eyebrow.

"If Wilfredo is your backup you may wish to reconsider your strategy. And, might I offer, _wanting_ me dead is certainly not enough to achieve that end."

"You don't scare me."

"Is that so?" As Hannibal spoke, he slipped the small key from beneath his wedding ring, continuing, "The wet spot on the fly of your trousers begs to differ. Placed a bit high, is it not?"

Slotting the small key into the padlock he'd replaced, he twisted the metal instrument, slipping the tumblers into place.

Mario, seeing he'd urinated, brushed the back of his hand across the widening wet patch.

His voice shaking with embarrassment, he justified, "Your eyes were closed! I spilled something!"

In order to cover the pop of the shackle from the body of the lock, Hannibal countered in a commanding tone, "Spilled something? Yes, the contents of your bladder. You shouldn't be embarrassed I don't blame you for your fear. Though I am chained, you are but a small cub. It is only natural that you cower in front of the lion. Fear is nature's way of warning that you are overmatched. You would do well to heed your instincts and leave this place while you are still alive."

Hannibal leaned forward to take the pressure off his wrists. Rotating the hinge of the shank, he turned it away from the body of the lock. He then removed the padlock from the chains, careful to hold the ends tightly to appear bound still.

"_Cub?_ I'm a _cub?_ You're the one who's chained to a wall like an old dog."

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Hannibal goaded, "_For now_."

"So, I'm the cub and you're the lion? Okay. Let's hear your roar."

Without stepping forward, careful that he might keep his distance, Mario leaned and forcefully jabbed the prod into Hannibal's ribs sending 9,000 volts through his system. His body shook but at this point he was more concerned with holding the chains firm than nullifying any physical distress. The moment Mario withdrew the prod Hannibal released a long breath and inhaled slowly, his only response to the agony of the attack.

Without revealing the discomfort the unprepared shock had caused or letting on that he was free, Hannibal spoke as if nothing had happened, explaining, "An ambulance isn't necessary as I am quite well. I would offer you the opportunity to make a preemptive call for your own needs, but by the time it arrives you will not be a candidate for resuscitation."

Mario leveled the prod, pointing it directly at Hannibal's nose.

"You know where I'm gonna put this prod next?"

"Do tell."

"Straight up your pompous ass."

"Is that so?"

Standing as smoothly as a shark's fin breaks the surface of calm water, Hannibal rose very slowly, allowing the chains to fall away from his body. The cascading links tumbled from his torso and clattered to the ground.

Seeing that Hannibal was now free, Wilfredo pulled himself up onto his hands and knees and began crawling toward the next the room. Hannibal ignored the movement believing Wilfredo was no threat and might provide a modicum of entertainment after such time as Mario had been dispatched. The priority was Mario.

Having a differing opinion, Mario twisting at the end of the tether, screamed, "Where the fuck are you going? Don't leave me…don't you fucking leave me!"

"I'm…gonna puke…I swear...I'm gonna puke." The man began retching, spewing vomit in front of him as he crawled.

Hannibal chuckled, "Actually, you are going to die."

Wilfredo continued crawling on his hands and knees through his own vomit into the next room, whimpering as he spewed, "No…no!...make...it...stop..."

Preoccupied with Mario, Hannibal made no effort to follow.

Mario gasped, stuttering, "_How...how did...did you get out?"_

"Intelligence, my friend. You might have been more prepared for such an eventuality but for the now painfully obvious fact your IQ is as small as your…_feet."_

With one violent tug, Hannibal yanked his arm and very quickly tightened the wire. The metal line tugged a small hand-carved toggle from its position beneath a forked frame. The moment the toggle flew free, a chain of events was set into motion. The bowed sapling previously stretched low behind the wall whipped upward. The rope beneath the hay snapped. The knot tightened and in a split second, Mario was ripped from his feet. Overturned, he was now dangling upside-down, swinging recklessly from one leg.

Hannibal smiled as his carefully constructed snare paid its dividends.

Some time during the explosion of activity the cattle prod had been dropped to the ground. Bending gracefully at the waist, Hannibal lifted it and turned it in the air to examine the device carefully. Activating it, with a sparkle of sadism enhancing his aura, he drove the tip deep into the thick flesh on the side of Mario's lower back, sending a sudden surge through the man's body.

Mario twisted and danced on the end of the tether as he screamed the most vulgar list of obscenities Hannibal had ever heard.

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? I wanted to demonstrate what I was forced to endure under your…_care_ these last twenty minutes."

Hannibal's nostrils flared.

_She must have heard the screams…She is nearer now…_

Hannibal took out his cell phone and texted Clarice. His message:

_I left a large cache of supplies by the door nearest my study for use with our guests._

Confident his wife would understand, he relaxed. He would take his time with Mario. Hannibal rested the electrified end of the prod on his shoulder and paced back and forth as if taking a leisurely stroll.

"It is quite a barbaric device, not at all elegant. Now my use of the snare…that is quite elegant, is it not? Do you like my handiwork? I was concerned, I must admit. It is a hair-trigger release on that leg hold, so I'm quite fortunate you didn't trip the mechanism out of position and ruin my surprise."

"Fuck you, Lecter! Let me down!"

"No."

"You'll see! I'm going to kill you then I'm going to your house, kill your kid and fuck your wife."

"Why is it that every time without exception I get the better of a degenerate like you, the first thing on everyone's mind is fucking my wife as if she'd have any one of you? I should cut you down and offer you to her. My lioness would chew you up and spit you out."

"Your woman will be sucking my cock for dinner."

"She is not my woman as I have no ownership over her. She is my wife- my equal partner in life and love. And while I will not allow you any stimulation at her expense, I do have something in mind for you that will provide you a certain degree of…_arousal_. If you will excuse me, I shall need to keep you occupied for a moment."

Aware Mario was still in possession of his weapon, Hannibal smiled, gripped the man firmly by one arm and tugged. Swaying him back and forth, Mario was wriggling like a worm on a line as he bobbed up and down. He vacillated like a pendulum. His face was flushing more and more with each pass.

"You are taking on a lovely shade of maroon. Attempting to match my eyes, perhaps? I must say I am flattered."

Clasping his hands firmly behind his back, to further dizzy, Hannibal circled Mario opposite the direction of the oscillation as he mused, "It is coming upon May. Here in Argentina it is autumn, but home it is…"

Hannibal stopped mid-sentence.

_Home._

It had long been a foreign concept. He'd occupied so many houses, so many striking and luxurious edifices. He'd strolled barefoot across gleaming marble floors, and been surrounded by opulent walls that sang toward soaring vaulted ceilings. Magnificent as they had been, he had called none of them home. Now, there were two places he could identify as such. Argentina and Baltimore. There was the castle in Lithuania, but that was not home. Not yet. Not until he could imagine Clarice within the space. Wherever he could visualize his Love…that was home.

"Hmm…home? Well…for our purposes, here and now, we will consider Baltimore my home, and there it is spring. Are you familiar with the Germanic and European tradition of the Maypole?"

Mario danced like a puppet on a string, ordering, "Get me down or I'll kill you!"

Hannibal stroked his chin, musing, "Charming as is your offer, I'm afraid I must decline. Now, back to my point. The maypole. Children and adults grab a ribbon and circle a pillar or a column of some sort, and, phallic though it seems, they all dance about it in joyous celebration. Though we are without a pole, for our celebration, I am certain I can come up with a suitable alternative."

"I'm not fucking with you! Let me down!"

"No, now that you no longer have your electrified erection, you most certainly are not." Hannibal waved the prod in front of Mario, taunting, "I shall put aside your choice of a massive power-driven baton as a torture device, though Freud would have a field day with it. Unlike you, I don't require a symbolic phallus to do away with my enemies as I am quite satisfied, as is my wife, with my own endowment."

"Fuck you!"

"Variations on a theme, but again, I'm forced to decline. Hmm, regarding the maypole, we have no ribbon either. Well, we shall be forced to make due. The rope from which you swing will serve as the combination of our pole and our ribbon. You merely have to spin. The celebration begins…NOW!"

Throwing his captor's arm outward as he gripped the man's shoulder and pushed, Hannibal turned Mario, spinning him forcefully. The large rope created a dangling axis point. Hannibal continued to turn Mario's body, whirling it in wide circles with all his might. The force of the twisting motion caused the man to both swing and rotate wildly, his one free leg and splayed arms providing an awkward looping gyration. Blood rushed to his head, illustrated by the beet-red flush to his face.

"I believe that will be adequate for now. Do enjoy the ride. If you'll excuse me, I must find my beloved weapon, as I feel rather naked without it."

As Mario spun out of control, Hannibal bowed low, beginning to search the hay to locate his Harpy. Though his back was turned his ears were pricked, his still-fit body ready, muscles tuned to respond at a moment's notice to any need.

Sorting through his clothing, Mario, dizzy, searched for his weapon. Withdrawing the gun he attempted to aim, but couldn't draw a bead on his target. Desperate,

he began firing his weapon indiscriminately. Hanging from one leg, he didn't have the ability to aim with any great accuracy, yet he emptied the weapon in an attempt to hit Hannibal. The rapid-fire clicking of the trigger without discharge clearly signaled the end of the ammunition.

After finding the Harpy, Hannibal turned toward Mario and disapprovingly clicked his tongue, advising, "You wasted your ammunition on your anger instead of using it to defeat your enemy. You are a foolish man." He thumbed the Harpy open and wagged it at his victim. "This needs no reloading."

Mario flailed his arms with abandon in an effort to reach Hannibal.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

"Yes, yes, yes…you're going to kill me, I know. As if I haven't heard that a dozen times, and yet I am here, free and there you are trussed like a Christmas goose. You are fortunate my wife has arrived. You really are becoming tedious."

Clarice stepped out from around the entrance. "Can't fool you, can I?"

"Not when I so look forward to spending time with you, my Love. You are just in time. Might you keep this miscreant company? I have something I would like to retrieve in the manufacturing area, if I can find it."

Clarice entered the stall. "Sure, but I'm a little disappointed. I paid attention to the shifting of the wind and I thought I was being so quiet, but I should know by now I'll never be able to sneak up on you, H."

"Never say never Clarice. Did you find the items I left out of doors?"

Clarice clutched a .44 magnum in her gloved hand and wagged it in the air.

"Yup. Not mine."

"Indeed. If you would keep an eye on our soon-to-be-deceased friend, I would be most grateful."

"No problem, H. Do what you have to do, I'll keep him covered."

"Stand behind him, Clarice. I don't want his lecherous eyes feasting on your beauty. He has been making very offensive comments."

Clarice stepped into the cell and stood directly in front of Mario. She shifted the bag she was carrying onto her back and cocked the weapon.

Hannibal smiled as his wife squared her shoulders and faced the man. Though the gun was pointed toward the ground, her eyes were serving as her weapon. She glared, questioning with no small measure of aggression, "_This _waste of skin has been talking about me? In what way, _sexually?"_

Hannibal approached his wife and smoothed the back of his knuckles against her cheek. The moment he removed his hand, he placed a tender kiss on her neck.

"Yes, my Love. He has offered the thought that his…well, for lack of a better word, personal…_protein_, will be your evening meal. I informed him he would be overmatched in any attempt and trust me when I say, you would be grossly underserved."

"Was he talking about his semen?"

"Yes."

"Ugh..._Protein?_"

"Approximately 1.25 grams of protein per emission for the average male."

Clarice leaned against her husband's shoulder. "So, are you shooting him in the dick or am I?"

"I had something else in mind though it does involve the same body part, and, of course, I'll step aside if you would like that privilege, but as your husband I would prefer to defend your honor. It is old-fashioned and I apologize, Clarice. I know you are more than capable of handling this pup, but it is one of my faults. My masculine pride, you know? Chivalry and such, you understand."

"Sure, H, and it's not a fault…it's one of the things I love about you. Get what you need from the other room. We'll be fine until you get back unless he reaches for his zipper. If he does, I'm shooting this little prick in his little prick."

Brushing a hand along Clarice's arm, Hannibal laughed, agreeing, "Understood, my Love."

* * *

Hannibal returned with a covered container. He twisted the lid but didn't remove it.

"Did you happen to see the handcuffs I placed with the weapons, Clarice?"

"Yup. Got 'em."

"Cuff his hands tightly behind his back, if you would, please."

"Sure, H."

Clarice clapped the first cuff around one wrist and squeezed it tightly. She then, though he fought mightily, twisted his arm up his back and secured the second cuff.

Hannibal raised the container, holding it next to the man's loose leg.

"Can you grip the handcuffs and prevent any extraneous movement, Clarice. I shall need him still for just a moment."

"Sure, H…what 'cha got there?"

"Let us call it...a pet."

Mario stretched upward in an attempt to see what Hannibal was carrying.

"Pet? What? What are you doing? Don't touch me!"

Gripping the cuffs firmly, Clarice steadied the man.

With one fluid motion, Hannibal used his thumb to eject the loosened lid. He then gripped Mario's pant leg and flipped the container, dumping the contents down the man's garment. He then reached within his own pocket and withdrew a thin cord. Wrapping it around the pant leg, Hannibal closed the fabric tightly around Mario's ankle and tied the cord. Stepping back, he smiled.

"Mario wanted a female in his trousers. Being a good host, I've done my best to oblige. Now we have but to wait to allow phoneutria nigriventer the opportunity to work her magic."

Mario stopped moving for a moment. Within seconds he began screaming.

"What is that? Something is crawling on me…something is crawling on me!"

"It is a Brazilian wandering spider ranked it as the most venomous spider in the world. This arachnid can not only kill humans with ease, for the male of the species, the bite also provides near immediate priapism."

Clarice stepped back.

"Priapism? Isn't that? H…haven't I heard that on erectile dysfunction commercials?"

"Yes. It is a long lasting and extremely painful erection. Our friend will be extremely engorged and exceedingly uncomfortable very soon. The long-term result is damage to the phallus resulting in permanent dysfunction, but this unfortunate man will have no worries past tonight. He'll die with an incredibly painful erection, a fitting end considering his disrespect. The bite of the spider is often fatal, though I will not leave that to chance. How are we on time?"

"We need to be out of here in half an hour."

"More than enough time."

Twisting and bobbing on the line, Mario screamed, "It bit me…motherfucker! It bit me."

Hannibal walked to the corner of the cell and retrieved the bucket Mario had placed earlier. He turned it upside-down and positioned it beneath Mario.

"Have you seen Wilfredo?" Hannibal questioned as he centered the bucket beneath the man's head.

"I didn't see anyone…there's another?"

"If the poison hasn't gotten him."

"Another spider?"

"No. Thallium dispersed in wine."

"Wow...brilliant! Why isn't he sick?"

"I didn't drink the wine, you bitch."

"Bitch?" Clarice hauled her arm back, bundled her fingers tightly and punched the man in his ribs. A large 'oof' sound was immediately expressed.

Hannibal smiled. "I would mind my manners if I were you. I was going to offer you a less painful death, but it seems you are of another mind. Once more, you've dared to offend my wife? I've an appropriate response for your disgusting language. You'll soon see what happens to rude individuals who refuse to hold their tongue."

Hannibal stepped in front of Mario. Noticing the small tenting in the man's pants he tugged at the man's pocket and taunted, "Is that all you can manage with the chemical assistance of the spider? I would send my condolences to your wife, but no doubt you haven't offered her much to mourn."

The man humped uselessly at the air, the action causing his body to swing in a wide arc.

"It…hurts…it…hurts…"

Hannibal turned to Clarice.

"Perhaps you'd like to excuse yourself, my Love. I don't want you to be a witness to my actions in your condition. I my intentions are quite savage."

Clarice backed up several steps, but didn't leave the cell.

"Come on, H. Just kill the little prick so we aren't late for our plane."

"Very well."

Standing behind Mario, Hannibal sat on the upended bucket, encircled the man's body, and held fast. Next, he used pierced the man's flesh with his Harpy, blood fountaining across the room in long arcs of crimson. Hannibal continued to slice the man's throat keeping the incision precisely along the line of his jaw from one cheek as he accurately followed exact line of the chin to the other cheek. He then pulled back the flap of skin beneath the chin, reached into the incision with his hand and, after rooting around for a moment, pulled Mario's tongue down from the back of his mouth and tugged it through the opening. The man thrashed for several seconds, his less-than-impressive erection scraping the inside of his zipper, but soon bled out.

"Columbian necktie. Rather attractive, is it not?"

"Sure...looks great. H?"

"Yes, my Love?"

"If you eat meat from this animal, can the venom from the spider harm you?"

"No. Venom must be delivered subcutaneously. Ingesting the meat is harmless."

Reaching into the bag she was carrying, Clarice withdrew a large empty sealed container with a locking lid designed for food storage. She tossed it to Hannibal.

"Then hack a hunk of roast from this asshole and let's catch our plane."

Hannibal caught the container and smiled.

"Clarice, you are magnificent."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	61. Chapter 61

**Crazy chemist- as always, my thanks! **

**To my twitter Hannimaniacs- So much fun, my friends! Great conversations and friendships forming! Lots of #NMSL fanfic love! My thanks for keeping me entertained! You rock!**

**THE DEVIL HAS NOTHING ON ME…**

Smiling, Clarice stepped aside to allow her husband room to work.

As if admiring a great masterpiece, Hannibal circled the man still twitching on the line.

Hands clasped firmly behind his back, his posture tall, noble even, Hannibal paced back and forth as he assessed the scene. Stopping beside his wife, he commented with an artist's pride, beaming, "I must admit I am rather fond of this aesthetic, my Love, you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he bent to one knee and smoothed his hands over her belly and massaged gently. Bending low, Hannibal placed an ear against her belly.

Gently tousling his hair, Clarice sought, "What are you doing, H?"

Palpating gently, he commented, "Locating our daughter's head. I would like to kiss her cheek."

Locating, Hannibal rubbed wide circles until the baby shifted. He then identified a specific spot and kissed it very tenderly.

"There you are, my little angel. Mother has yet to comment on Daddy's handiwork and I'm feeling quite underappreciated. Yes, I do know you appreciate me. Mother is quite tight-lipped, however."

Continuing to massage his wife's belly, Hannibal smiled.

"Did you feel that, Clarice?" he beamed as the baby kicked against his hand. "Our daughter is an art lover, even if you are not."

Slapping Hannibal's shoulder, she teased, "Don't be such a wiseass, H!"

"Heaven forbid, Clarice. So? What do you think of my tableau? Lovely, is it not?"

"Sure, H. Dead bad guys are always a beautiful thing." Clarice poked the man's back, causing him so sway slightly. "He's as pretty as a picture hanging on a wall."

"Quite."

Looking the man up and down, Hannibal smoothed the flat edge of his Harpy along his cheek.

"What are you doing, H? We've got a flight. Get on with it."

"I'm considering what piece of flesh I would like to harvest. Any thoughts?"

She ran a finger the length of his arm, advising, "Just take the liver, H. You tossed the last one and I feel like crap about it. You did without because of me."

His head inclined as he considered her suggestion. "The liver? Are you still upset about that? Would my taking this liver make you feel better?"

"Putting aside how weird it is that I want to you eat a piece of this stupid bastard? Yeah…it would make me feel better."

"Then the liver it is."

Using the Harpy to cut the shirt from Mario's body, he tended to his work. His hands too bloody to check his watch, he asked, "How are we fixed for time, my Love?"

As if mesmerized by her husband's movements she paused, likely to consider what he'd asked. Looking at her watch she finally offered, "We're good if we can get to our cars in the next twenty minutes. I really don't want to meet Dev at the airport if we can help it. I'd feel better if we were all together."

Hannibal nodded. "I understand your feelings. You do know that it is a private flight, Clarice. They will not leave before when we are ready."

"You told me we had to take off even if you weren't on board."

"That is because if I hadn't boarded on time it would have been likely I was either captured or killed. I wanted you away from here if that was the case. If it will add to your comfort you have simply to text my aunt, tell her we will be along shortly, and ask that she inform the driver to wait."

"Thanks, H…that would make me feel better."

Clarice pressed at touchscreen of her cell phone. After several seconds she frowned.

"It's not sending for some reason. I'm going out to the main room to see if I can get a better signal."

"Very well. I'll be along shortly."

Just as Clarice passed her husband Hannibal hacked through the man's side.

She stopped and watched until her gaze caused Hannibal to shift his attention from his kill to his wife. Pausing to see her eyebrows gathered, his arched.

"Clarice? You appear concerned. If you would rather I not…_harvest_ from this man I'll…"

"What? No! I'm sorry, H. That isn't that at all. I'm just a little surprised. You're making kind of a big mess and I'm just surprised by it. It's…sloppy. That's not like you at all."

Hannibal leaned and kissed his wife's cheek before turning his attention once more to the body swinging before him. The cuts were deep and though he was careful not to damage the structure he was seeking, the surrounding area was gouged as if the attack was frenzied.

Barely breaking a sweat, he responded cheerfully, "Exactly. I don't wish to leave any calling cards. I shall take the liver in as careless a fashion as I can manage without harming the meat, and will leave a reference to cowardice scrawled in blood just above the wound. They'll assume the removal of the organ was not for food, but was meant to serve as an example to others. A warning."

She nodded, causing her auburn hair to tumble, cascading across her face.

Hannibal smiled. Holding up his gloved and very bloodied hands, he offered, "I would so dearly love to tuck that errant lock behind your ear, my Love, but as you see, I am otherwise engaged. Please forgive me."

Clarice adjusted her hair. Leaning close, she kissed his shoulder.

"That's okay, H…I can wrangle my own strays."

"Yes, of course you can."

"So this gory bit of staging is misdirection?"

"In a manner of speaking, though it may be overkill. I have a plan that I believe will make this effort a moot point, but I do want all my bases covered in the event the individual in question doesn't follow through."

"Moot point? How?"

"I am of the thought that I can count on a friend to dispose of the body and clean the scene."

"Cervelli? Alena is still in the hospital. He wouldn't have the time, not to mention the resources to handle that. I doubt he'd have the stomach for it, either."

"No, you are correct. Not Cervelli. After I place the call, if I'm able to reach an agreement, I'll explain everything."

Not attending to much else, Clarice walked through the doorway with the phone extended, changing the height and position as she moved in an apparent effort to test the strength of the signal.

"Okay, H. I'll be back as soon as I hit send and get a reply."

"Yes, my Love."

Not at all concerned, he knew his aunt wouldn't allow the car to leave without Clarice, but if it set her mind at ease to call, there wouldn't be any harm. Trusting she would feel more settled once the call was placed the good doctor put it out of his mind and busied himself with his butchering. Humming happily as he chopped away, swinging his arm in wide swaths, he allowed large hunks of flesh to drop from the carcass and fall to the floor. Each piece slapped at the cement flooring, now clear of hay, allowing the blood to spatter in tiny arcs.

It took several minutes for Hannibal to extract the liver, but he was able to remove the organ, careful to keep it intact, without his usual surgical precision. Handling the lobed tissue with all due respect, he placed the still-warm flesh in the container Clarice provided. Locking down the tabs, he opened the bag to see several layers of similar containers. Removing the lid on the first, he looked inside. Tucked safely within: a zip-sealed bag of creamy fluid labeled _breast milk_. Opening the bag, Hannibal dipped his nose within and chuckled.

_Breast milk? Unless you moo, my Love, not likely. No doubt you believe if the bag is checked this will serve to both embarrass and distract? My brilliant Clarice…you think of everything._

Resealing the bag he tucked it within the container and secured the lid. He then removed every container from the bag and placed the one with the liver on the bottom. Placing each small box back within the bag his wife had provided slid his hand within, he noted the sides of the bag were lined with several frozen plastic brick-like objects designed to keep the items cool.

_I shall have to thank you for your thoughtfulness, my Love…_

Hannibal wiped his hands and glanced at his watch. Clarice had been gone several minutes. Lifting the carrier and slipping the strap over his shoulder, Hannibal called out to his wife as he walked down the corridor to the main room.

"Clarice? I've finished here. Are you ready to leave?"

_No answer? Cause for concern, perhaps? Either you and my dear aunt are extremely talkative- not like you at all, the phone his having difficulty receiving a signal or… _

Hannibal's nostrils flared.

_Wilfredo!_

Dropping the bag, without any thought to either the contents, or, for that matter, his safety, Hannibal bolted down the long aisle and burst through the large swinging doors. Uncharacteristically stumbling into the main room, his eyes scanned. Wilfredo was standing, wedged in a corner with his weapon trained on Clarice.

Seeing Hannibal, Wilfredo warned, "I don't want…to kill…her, but…I will if…you don't…help me."

"Hannibal ignored the man's request for help. Instead he stepped forward and questioned calmly, as if the woman he loved was not in mortal danger, "Have you killed before?"

Doubled over, gulping down his own vomit, Wilfredo gasped, threatening weakly, "No…but…I will…to save… myself…I will…"

_I must press him…I need information…_

"Can you taste the dark blood mixing with your bile? Your death is close, my friend. Would your last act on this earth be your first murder?"

Stepping closer, Hannibal sought clarity, as he informed, "As I'm certain you are well aware, I have killed many, many times. Perhaps it does not come as naturally to you, the taking of a life, as it does to me. If I wanted someone dead, I would not have hesitated as you hesitate now. I am curious. What stays your hand?"

His voice trembled as he feebly asserted his demand, "I wa…want…no…I…need… the anti-venom."

"Certainly you remember…you were not bitten by the spider. No anti-venom will help."

The man began rocking in an attempt to quell the nausea. Fear filled his voice as he questioned, "Then…why am…I sick? I'm…dying aren't…I…I'm…I'm dying."

Hannibal didn't shirk the question, rhetorically seeking, "You drank the wine, did you not?"

Wilfredo was having breathing difficulties, panting as he spoke, "Yes…yes…but…"

"I'll not lie to you. There are no _buts_. You drank the wine therefore you are going to die. If you would like revenge, move your weapon from my wife and aim it in my direction. I was the one who poisoned the bottles. I am responsible for your death. Take your revenge. Come…kill me."

"If…you…won't…help me…I'll kill…you…both."

Anxious that the gun be moved from Clarice, Hannibal, once more, walked forward.

"If taking my life makes your passage to hell easier, you may make the attempt to kill me. I must warn you, however, that if you harm my wife I will be at your throat before you are able to turn the gun toward me."

Choking back the bile rising up the back of his throat, Wilfredo swallowed hard. Huffing what little breath he could gather, he warned, "I'm not…dead yet…I'm not…she's first…your wife…your baby…will go…before me."

"Perhaps, but you should know- _she_ is my mercy and if it happens that she is gone, I will have _none_. You may rest assured, if that occurs, I will make your remaining time on this earth even more agonizing than you are capable of comprehending."

Eyes glowing, Hannibal continued to walk forward, closing the distance.

Clarice stepped forward, offering with no hint of fear in her voice, "H…don't…don't…just wait him out. He's been shaking. He can't hold out forever."

Hannibal raised his hand to stay her progress. His voice soothed, as he directed, "A man with a shaking hand and a gun pointed in your direction isn't something I can 'wait out' my Love. Nor is it something I will abide."

His pace was slow, his bearing threatening as he prowled forward, his posture angling toward his prey as if reaching for the man's throat with each step. His head rode low between his shoulders, like a jungle cat stalking its prey. His chin was dropped to his chest. He looked up from beneath his brow, his eyes ablaze with unbridled aggression. A rumbling growl rolled up the back of his throat as his predatory instincts challenged the man with the gun.

Clenched teeth bared, his voice echoing the dungeon tones of so many years ago, Hannibal hissed, "I shall warn you one last time to turn that weapon from my wife or you will suffer such torment that you will cry to Satan to deliver you to hell, for is only in his arms that you find relief from me."

"You…can only…kill…me…once…"

"That is true, but lest you forget, I am a doctor. I can keep you alive for hours. During that time the savagery of my vengeance will be of biblical proportions."

The weight of both the weapon and his own mortality wore on Wilfredo. His hand trembled. His arm lowered for a split-second before he mustered the strength to heft it once more.

"Don't! Don't!"

As Hannibal stepped forward Wilfredo, terrified, began to attempt squeezing the trigger. The pull against the weapon was almost too much. Bracing the gun against his side Wilfredo screamed, "Stay back! Stay back!"

"I cannot. You will kill me, now, or you will die."

Using the index fingers of both hands, Wilfredo tugged hard, groaning as the weapon discharged.

Neither Clarice nor Hannibal flinched, as the bullet struck the ground halfway between them.

"That was your only warning!" Wilfredo sobbed, "The next…bullet…hits your…baby…I'm not...kidding…I'm not."

Now frantic to shift Wilfredo's attention, Hannibal stomped his foot and roared, "Look at the inferno raging within my eyes! The devil has nothing on me, my friend! He was once an angel. I carry no such burden!"

The man didn't move, though the fear in his eyes was apparent.

Glowering at the man, rage unbridled, Hannibal's body shook. He was a man at the reins of unparalleled strength and guile, a killing machine idling in front of his target. His eyes shifted to his wife.

"Do you have the item you gathered outside?"

Clarice nodded, affirming, "Yes."

"Is it at hand?"

"Always."

"Ready it."

"No…H…"

"This is not up for discussion, Clarice. I will have you safe at all cost."

"Not this cost, H…not this."

The almost elegiac tone of her voice cut to his heart. Pushing the emotion down, he swallowed hard.

"At _any_ cost, my Love. Prepare yourself."

"I love you, H…please."

"It is because you love me that you must, Clarice. Go! NOW!"

With reckless abandon, Hannibal charged forward. Barreling like a runaway freight train toward Wilfredo he shifted the angle of his body in space.

The first step saw Hannibal snapping his arm outward, ejecting the Harpy from its home within his sleeve.

By the second step the weapon was opened and ready.

By the third Wilfredo had redirected the aim of his weapon from Clarice to Hannibal, his head now lowered as he charged forward hell-bent on destruction.

By step four, Hannibal was in the air, Harpy held tightly in his fist. His arms were stretched wide to either deliver or welcome death in whatever form it came. His death or Wilfredo's, it did not matter. It only mattered that it would not be Clarice's.

Reflexes undiminished in pregnancy, Clarice reached for the Magnum, aimed and fired repeatedly, emptying the weapon as her husband leapt in the air.

"God, save me!" Wilfredo cried out as he took aim, his shaking hands tightening as he squeezed the trigger and discharged the weapon.

A hail of projectiles hurtled toward Wilfredo even as the .9 mm rounds raced with purpose toward Hannibal. Both weapons struck their targets.

Hannibal crashed to the ground and toppled backward, knocked to the ground from the force of the attack. The spray of Wilfredo's brains coated the walls as Clarice's aim delivered lethal missiles with pinpoint accuracy.

As Hannibal writhed on the ground, Clarice rushed to his side.

And then there were none…

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	62. Chapter 62

**I'M HERE, CLARICE…I'M HERE…**

Wiping the weapon clean and dropping it where she stood, Clarice was at Hannibal's side seconds after the shot. Her beloved husband was face down on the ground. She turned him over very carefully, supporting his head and neck as she rolled him onto his back. His clothing was covered in blood.

"What blood is Mario's and what's yours H?"

Resting her head on his chest, she listened to the same comforting thump to which she'd become accustomed. Strong. Powerful. Stroking her fingers through his hair, she called to her husband, "H? Wake up! H!"

Nothing.

Lifting her hand from the back of his head she winced. There was blood on her palm.

"H…if you can hear me? You've a cut on your head but it doesn't look too bad...Now, I'm opening your shirt to find the bullet wound."

Tugging at the garment she pulled the shirttails from his trousers. She smoothed her hands over his chest and breathed deeply.

"Don't worry, H...I can do this…I can do this…"

Clarice attempted to open the garment, but her fingers struggled with the buttons, slick with blood.

"Hang on, H…I've got to see how bad it is…hang on…"

The buttons of the fine silk shirt were small and the serum slippery. Her fingers couldn't pass the buttons through the holes with enough speed. Frustrated, Clarice clutched the fabric and yanked with all her might. The strength of the pull against the fabric lifted Hannibal's limp body slightly from the ground. As the stress increased, the buttons popped one by one. Ripping the shirt open, Clarice spread the fabric. Hannibal's chest hair was matted and caked with blood.

His eyes fluttered open.

"My Love?"

"He aimed directly at your body. He couldn't have missed at that distance. Where were you hit?"

Hannibal reached for his abdomen. His body crunched forward as he strained to see. His large hands spanned wide as he palpated the area.

"I don't know."

"Where does it hurt?"

"It doesn't. It felt as if I was punched in the stomach. I've been shot before…There should be burning. There's no burning."

"There's too much blood, H…I don't know what's yours and what belongs to the liver donor in the other room." She patted her hand on his chest repeatedly, comforting for her, perhaps? Hannibal was unsure.

"I've got an idea."

She jumped to her feet as quickly as a woman in her condition could manage. Striding across the room she grabbed several bottles of water and rushed back to Hannibal. Opening the bottles, she quickly poured the liquid, smoothing her hands over his body to cleanse his chest and stomach as best she could.

Clarice continued, "Don't worry. We'll get to the bottom of it. You'll be okay. You'll be okay…you have to be."

He watched her very closely. She was pregnant and anxious. He didn't like the combination. Her last labor and delivery were a struggle. He would not add to her difficulties.

He attempted to stand, but Clarice's firm hand on his shoulder stayed him.

Sitting up, Hannibal calmly questioned, "Clarice, could it be he missed"

She raised a trembling hand to her head, shaking in disagreement. Her voice was elevated, nerves evident, yelling as she emphasized, "He _didn't miss_, H! I was looking at him as he fired. You were right on top of him! I could see the angle of the gun."

"Still…I feel no pain."

"It could be shock or it could be that crazy-high tolerance of yours. Don't move."

"There is no entrance wound."

"Maybe your body turned. Let me see your sides. Lay down. Let me look. I have to look."

Resting, Hannibal closed his eyes. Clarice was taking control because she needed to see for herself. He felt no pain. There was no need to worry. Still. She was terrified.

_Perhaps humor would lessen her anxiety…_

"He might have aimed lower than I thought. I'm going to open your trousers and check for any wounds, okay?"

"I'd think a bullet below the belt would leave me slightly perturbed, but have a look if it sets your mind at ease. Seriously," he opened his eyes as his smile widened, "have I ever complained when you sought to remove my trousers, my Love?"

Clarice rolled her eyes.

"You know if I wasn't so worried, you'd be getting slapped right about now."

Hannibal jokingly raised his hands as if protecting himself from inevitable attack. "Heaven forbid, Clarice."

She reached for the strap of his Armani belt and tugged the fine leather to release the buckle. Nothing. She pulled harder. The tongue wouldn't budge.

Looking closely, she gasped, "Oh my god…Oh my god…"

The hitch in her throat and the tone in her voice caught Hannibal so off-guard he sat bolt upright.

Her hands flew to her mouth. Her face lost all of its color.

Hannibal sat bolt upright and gripped her shoulders.

"Clarice, you look as if you've just seen a ghost."

"Your buckle, H…Look!"

Hannibal tugged it forward, angling it to provide a better view. He heart may have skipped a beat; he wasn't sure. Wedged tightly between the buckle's pin terminal and tongue, crushed into the frame was the discharged bullet from the 9mm shell casing.

Hannibal stood and brushed himself off.

Clarice continued to pass her hands over her husband's body almost obsessively checking for any injury she might have missed. Her voice quavered, "If you'd shifted an inch either way…if you didn't jump…you might be dead."

_Her hands are shaking._ _I can taste her fear…_

Hoping he might be able to once more distract Clarice's anxiety, he quipped, "Perhaps, but in any event, I've lost my favorite belt."

Clarice slapped her husband's shoulder with far more force than was her norm.

Flinching, he overreacted playfully, "Ouch! You're getting quite aggressive, Clarice. I may have to talk to our daughter about your behavior."

"You earned that one!"

Rubbing his arm as if injured, Hannibal laughed, "Thankfully, I find your aggression quite arousing."

"We've got a plane to catch so keep it in your pants."

"For now, Clarice…for now."

* * *

The security official assigned to their plane opened the cooler and began to push through the container. Lifting the first sealed bag, the young man noticed the labels clearly marking the contents as breast milk in three languages: English, Italian and Spanish. Perhaps uncertain as to procedure, confusion flooded his face.

The instant the man pinched the edges of the zippered bag making it appear as if he might check the contents, holding his son tightly to his body, Hannibal very loudly cleared his throat.

"Uh-hum…did you intend to pierce the seal on that bag thus rendering the contents unusable?"

Lifting his eyes to survey the sound, recognition quickly immobilized the man.

"I…I…it's not factory sealed."

"As my wife is the…_factory_ to which you are referring, it is as sealed as she is capable of making it."

The man's face burned, embarrassment coloring his cheeks a deep crimson. Seeing the flush of youth and inexperience clouding the man's judgment, Hannibal continued the emotional warfare.

"That milk is for my son and while I, too, can testify the taste is unparalleled, I shall take extreme offense if you attempt to sample it for yourself."

The man's mouth twitched, his eyes widening as he found himself locked within Hannibal's narrowing coal-black pupils.

Devyni's warm blue orbs sparkled with a combination of curiosity and concern as he questioned, "He isn't going to drink Mommy's milk, is he? I wouldn't like that, Daddy."

"Nor would I, my son, though it remains to be seen."

"No, no…I wasn't…I swear…I wasn't. Please, it's fine...just take the milk and board your plane. It's fine...it's fine."

Hannibal nodded, adding respectfully, "Thank you for your discretion."

Coming up alongside Hannibal, Clarice took her son from her husband's arms and set him down beside Lady Murasaki. Without exchanging a word with Clarice, understanding her task, she took the boy's hand and led him up the stairs and onto the plane. Hannibal and Clarice followed, but remained several steps behind careful to remain out of earshot of their son.

"Real classy, H…you just had to tell him you've tasted it, didn't you?"

"I don't believe it makes me any less a man that I _indulge_ on occasion. There is no shame in it or in me. I am curious. Are you ashamed of the act?"

"Not ashamed…but…it's…intimate."

"Nonsense. We have a child together therefore it is obvious we have been and are intimate. Though it happens in our bed, the act itself isn't sexual. Your milk is the nectar of the gods, Clarice. That I am honored to place my lips to your breast and am blessed to partake…mmm. You have me starved now, imagining the coral and cream of your flesh…" He nipped at her throat. "I assure you, I am the envy of every man."

"Yeah, well, how about we don't go running off and _announcing_ it to every man."

"No, my Love. Just the ones I don't want looking any further. There are lines that men of good will understand should not be crossed."

"What lines?"

By his reaction it was obvious the gentleman understood my objection. Handling that milk in a disrespectful fashion or, god forbid, tasting it, in my eyes, would have been no different than fondling your breasts. A man's jealousy is a strong deterrent. Do you take my meaning?"

Clarice smiled as Hannibal helped her navigate the stairs, "Are you jealous of me, H? Really?"

"You are my wife, my sublime lover and the mother of my children. Anyone who offends you offends me. Yes, dearest Clarice. I am superbly jealous of you, astonishingly so. I find I am often unprepared for the intensity of the sensations as the emotion rises within."

"So…how long his the flight?"

"It varies. Between 11 and 12 hours depending on the wind and the weather."

"Accommodations?"

"There is a comfortable seating area and two very cozy sleeping quarters, one for my aunt and the boy and the other for you and I."

"Does she know she's got Dev in her room?"

"She volunteered."

"She's very good to me, you know…to us."

"Yes, and we are very good to her. It is what family does for one another, is it not?"

"I suppose so, not that either one of us would know."

"We know now. That is all that matters."

Though Clarice smiled, Hannibal could feel the tension strangling her muscles. They entered the plane. He led Clarice to her seat.

"Allow a few moments to relax, Clarice. I would like to make a phone call."

"Okay, H."

* * *

Hannibal went to the front of the plane and took out Chavez's cell phone. He searched the address book and located a phone number and dialed. The phone was answered quickly.

"Hello, Doctor."

"Hello. I'm surprised you spoke so directly without being certain of the outcome."

"The moment I left, I was certain of the outcome. What can I do for you? Is there a way I can be of additional service?"

"If you will agree to handle the clean up, I will place a text message from this phone to the contact at the docks and inform them you will be handling the final shipment. All payments will go directly to you. You are to divide the profits with Mr. Cervelli for his family's trouble and may keep the remainder for yourself. Is that a satisfactory arrangement? Will you handle the arrangements?"

"Yes, I will be happy to handle it. You may certainly count on me, my friend, if I may be so bold as to call you that?"

"If this is handled well, you may certainly call me friend. Are we agreed?"

"Yes. We are agreed."

Hannibal disconnected the line and sent several text messages to the contact at the port. The crime scene would be swept clean, the Cervelli's would finally have peace and the old man, Hannibal's humble new friend, would be a very wealthy man.

* * *

By the time they'd boarded and been cleared for takeoff it was almost 7:00 pm. After no more than an hour in the air, Devyni began to nod off in his seat.

Lady Murasaki spoke quietly, "Young Hannibal is very tired as am I. Would either of you mind if I took the boy and we retired to our cabin?"

Hannibal nodded, "Not at all."

Clarice stood. "I'll undress him and tuck him in so you can get ready for bed."

The pair walked down the aisle to the sleeping quarters. Lady Murasaki whispered, "You appear quite stressed. Are you well? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, thanks. I'm just a little freaked out about what happened to H, today."

"What has happened that you're so distressed?"

"A man shot at him today…I tried my best to protect him but I wound up putting him at risk…He takes chances. He never took chances before."

"He takes chances now because he has never had so much to lose. As for protecting Hannibal, he has been defending himself since he was eight years old. Much as you want to shield him, it is unnecessary. He is more than able."

"I love him…I can't…I can't just step back and let the world have at him."

"The world is not against Hannibal, not any longer. And though you love him, you must learn to step back. You are a mother now. Your child might have been without both parents. Your unborn child might have never taken its first breath. Go to your husband and find comfort. I'll take care of young Hannibal. You need _your_ Hannibal now."

"Our Hannibal."

"Yes…yes." Lady Murasaki took the boy from his mother's arms, "But he finds his comfort with you. Go to him."

"Thank you."

"There's no need for thanks. No need."

Lady Murasaki turned and carried the sleeping boy to his bed. Still shaky, Clarice left them to join her husband.

* * *

Clarice returned to find Hannibal sleeping soundly with his head tilted at an awkward angle. She gently brushed her hand across his chest. He opened his eyes immediately.

"My Love?"

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

"No, I didn't."

She tugged at his arm.

"Let's get some rest then. I'm sure you're going to want to be up early. I'm tired too. It's been a hell of a day."

"That it has."

Sore from the day, Hannibal consented when Clarice offered a hand. Not that he needed assistance but he thought she might need to help. The loving couple walked arm in arm toward their sleep quarters. When inside, Hannibal used the intercom system to notify the attendants. He asked they not to disturb the family unless an emergency occurred. He was in bed within minutes and sound asleep seconds later.

Hours passed. The flight was smooth, thankfully. Sleeping on his back, Hannibal woke to his wife's hand tracing very light circles over his stomach. Occasionally her fingers feathered lower. He ran a strong hand down her spine. He palmed the left cheek of her bottom and pulled her close.

"Did you mean to wake me, Clarice? Do you have need of me?"

"What? No…I'm sorry, H. Just feeling a little needy…go back to sleep. I'll be okay."

Hannibal immediately rolled onto his side. Stroking his nose along Clarice's cheek, he growled playfully, "Hmmm, _needy?_ Sounds promising."

She cuddled close. They looked deeply into one another's eyes. Captivated by the intimacy, he stroked his knuckles along her cheek.

A half-smile was all she managed. Patting her hand on his chest, she spoke softly,

"Just rest, H…I shouldn't have bothered you. It was selfish of me."

Raising up on one elbow, Hannibal countered, "Selfish? How can wanting something from a husband who would deny you nothing be selfish? Tell me what you need and you shall have it."

She looked away.

_She cannot look me in the eye? Of what is she unsure? This isn't like her…not at all._

"Clarice?"

The expression on her face was one Hannibal had not seen before and could not identify. He inhaled slowly, filling his lungs. The breath was intentionally protracted, his mouth open to allow the air to skim his tongue.

_I taste…fear? Can it be that she is afraid?_

Again, he sought an explanation, urging, "Clarice? Please."

"It's nothing, H…I'm being a baby, that's all."

She cupped his face and kissed the tip of his nose. The kiss lingered so long that he opened his eyes. Hers were tightly closed.

The moment they parted, she stroked her thumbs upward, asking quietly, "How do you feel, H?"

"Slightly sore, but no worse for the wear." As he spoke his fingertips gently stroked the hollow of her hip. He then palmed her belly, his hand lightly skimming up the slope and back again. Burying his face alongside her neck, he whispered, "I can feel your pain…speak, my Love. I'm here."

Clarice stroked the soft hairs of his lower abdomen. A large purple welt had spread just above his groin. Her hand lifted suddenly, wavering in the air as if she had no idea where to place it now.

Feeling her body trembling, Hannibal quickly enfolded her within his arms and held her tightly to him.

"It is simply a bruise. No more."

"It's more than that…you know it's more than that."

"Do not make this something it is not. There is nothing more to it than that. Calm yourself, Clarice. I am fine."

Holding the back of her head, he tucked her face alongside his neck. Her lips pressed to his flesh. She shuddered.

"There is more to it…there is…"Her lips brushed his pulse point. She spoke against his skin, "But…you almost weren't…"

"There _is_ no almost. I am here."

Her voice pled for understanding. "H…H…you almost died...you almost died..."

"No...I did not. The bullet did not find its mark." Taking her hand, he placed it on his chest. "Feel me, Clarice. My heart is beating. I'm here, with you."

Placing both her palms on his chest, she rested her forehead on her hands. Hannibal held her. Her body shook. He could smell her tears.

Allowing time for her to process her emotions, Hannibal held his wife and kissed the top of her head as she cried. The sobs were mournful, the sorrow tracking down her cheeks and spilling on his chest unchecked.

When she began gagging, unable to inhale without an aching hitch in each breath, Hannibal intervened. Drawing back to allow separation, he gently grasped her chin and tipped her head back to better see her face.

Placing very light kisses across her face, he asked, "What is my name?"

She closed her eyes, turning her face toward each blissful buss.

"Hmm, what?"

If the kisses distracted, he was glad of it.

His leg hooked over hers, the strength of his calf pulling her close. He was aware of their nudity.

"My...name…" First, he kissed her eyelids, now fluttering against his lips. Next, he kissed her face, and with each tender touch of his lips to her flesh, he urged, "My name…my Christian name…what…is…it?"

A quiet word, almost a prayer, she adored, "You're Hannibal."

His mouth was at her throat now, alternating words with the kisses and tiny nibbles, he continued, "And…what… am I…to you…specifically."

"What?"

Hannibal moved lower now, he stroked his cheek against the fullness of her breast. Warm breath floated across the peak, now tightening with arousal.

His lush baritone hummed against the heaviness of her breast, full with her pregnancy. He could smell the milk. His body burned for her.

"Who am I?" he sought as he took the taut bud of flesh into his mouth. His incisors gently pinched the pebbled tip, scraping the nerve endings, flooding her body with warmth. Hannibal's hands gripped her sides as his mouth continued to work her breast.

The contact was far too intense, her head dropped back and gasping, near breathless, she assured, "You're…my husband. You're my…my H…your…mine."

His tongue teased, flicking quickly as the warm liquid flowed. Starved, he flattened, his tongue, taking wide swipes, lapping the fluid as he admired, "You're…enchanting…no man…will claim…what is mine. Ever."

Threading her fingers through his hair, Clarice held his head tightly to her breasts. Each breath sharp, she assured, "Never…I'm yours…only yours…"

Primal possessiveness stoked the fires within, as he nipped at the sides of her breasts and growled, "Mine…forever…mine."

Latched fully, he sucked hard. Her muscles tightened, gentle whimpers followed. Breathless sighs that made Hannibal's stomach jump, the burning in his abdomen demanding release. This hunger undeniable, his arousal bucked upward as each subtle sound proclaimed her pleasure. Her scent was lush, the sweet aroma of her musk heavy in the air.

"I need you, Clarice…now…"

"Me too…me too…"

Climbing over her body he aligned their torsos and pressed his chest to hers, his now wet from her still flowing breasts.

"Can you feel it? Your heart beats against mine. We are one. Can you feel it?"

She teased at the soft flesh beneath his chin, assuring, "Yes…yes…"

Hannibal reached between her thighs and finding her center, stroked slowly upward, as he worshipped, "No one has ever felt my heart beat, Clarice… no one ever will. I am yours. You are mine, yes? We will join once more and you will know that you are mine...I am here and you are mine…"

The contact intense, her body tensed, her head lowering as she assured, "Yes…I'm yours…I'm yours…"

"And you know that I want you…I shall always want you…even now…at this moment…I want you…"

"Yes…yes…"

"Shall I…take you…here… now? Would that…please you?"

"Yes…H…yes…"

He took her hand and slowly closed her fingers around his phallus, flushed from their foreplay. He held his breath, moving her closed over his length.

"Can you feel me?"

"Yes…"

Opening her legs to him, Hannibal centered his body, lowered his head and thrust. Deep within, he moved slowly.

"Come, my Love…Stay with me…_be_ with me…"

Clutching his shoulders, she met each caress of his body within her own. Finely attuned, Hannibal grasped her hips, pulling her close as he drove within.

Hastening his pace to match Clarice's quickening breath, his hips pinned her to the mattress with the force of each thrust. His heart racing, tension building, he sensed his wife, too, teetered on the edges of her orgasm.

Nibbling at her ear, he pressed, "And you? How do…you feel?"

Near breathless, she panted, "H…not…now…"

"Yes…Now…Clarice…now…how…do…you…feel?"

She clutched his hips, her fingers digging deeply into his flesh. Trembling in his arms, her body twitched, her muscles stressed with pleasure.

"Perfect...you're perfect..."

Hannibal groaned as her body undulating around his as the ripples of orgasm embracing them both from within.

Biting hard at the muscles of her neck, Hannibal growled low, the sound primal and protective as he buried himself deeply within his wife. Clutching her hips they called out one another's name as they shuddered their simultaneous release. Aftershocks of orgasm twitching and pulsing within, they held each other silently for several minutes before Hannibal whispered a final time,

"I'm here, Clarice…I'm here."

**Until the next chapter, my friends! **

**LH **


	63. Chapter 63

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Shout-out to my new twitter family! I laugh all day, my friends! So much silliness! Anyone bored at work or at home, the party happens every day! Come join us! It's to die for! My thanks as well to all my faithful reviewers. I'm astounded and touched by your loyalty. Much fanfic love!**

**LH**

**GETTING SCHOOLED**

As Hannibal slept peacefully, thoughts of the preceding day pounded away at Clarice's consciousness. Seared on her mind's eye was the image of the bullet lodged within her husband's belt. He was here, his body warm, her scent still upon him. Comfort. Love. Curling against his body, she rested her head on his chest and listened to his heart beating, so strong. Looking down along his body she could see his abdomen rise and fall with each breath he took. Reaching, Clarice skimmed her hand along his belly stroking the soft flesh. She'd seen what a bullet could do. Gut shots were particularly devastating. He'd come so close to dying. So very close…an inch either way and the results would have been tragic. It had been a game of cat and mouse until that last shell pinged on the ground. Nearly overwrought, she quickly turned her mind from the gory images flashing in her mind.

Anxiety driving her from their bed she rolled away from the man she loved. Shifting nervously from one foot to the other, she stood over him for several minutes and watched him sleep. He was so calm. He didn't have the burden of worry she carried. He was so confident in his abilities he never second-guessed himself. It was over, he was alive, and the men he wanted dead were just that. He wouldn't give it another thought. She couldn't shake it from her mind.

Without taking her eyes from him, she slowly backed away. Though his nostrils flared in response to her movement, Hannibal didn't wake. Unusual. Any movement on her part would normally stir him to consciousness. No doubt exhaustion had claimed him for the night.

Clarice sat in a small armchair in the corner of their sleeping quarters and clutched her cell phone, contemplating their arrival in Washington. Deciding on a course of action that would ease her mind she very quietly sent several text messages. Upon receiving the replies she sought, she climbed into the bed, set her cheek upon his chest once more, and finally drifted to sleep.

* * *

Stepping off the plane, Hannibal gripped is wife's hand with his left and clutched the handle of the cooler containing the liver with his right. Lady Murasaki held young Hannibal's hand and walked several steps behind the couple as they walked to a private holding area to wait for their luggage. If Hannibal and Clarice found themselves rushed by the authorities or curious onlookers upon entering the terminal she'd been instructed to contact Barney and proceed directly to the home in Baltimore.

As the Lecter family waited, both Ardelia and Logan were stood patiently at the entrance to the customs intake area in full and very obvious FBI gear, jackets emblazoned with the banner of the bureau across the width of their shoulders. Well, Ardelia stood patiently. Logan was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his badge bouncing on his chest clearly excited to have his hero in his sights.

Waving, Logan shouted across the aisle, "Hey, Doc! Hey, Doc! Your clear with customs. Wait there. It'll only take me a minute to get to you!"

Squeezing Clarice's hand, Hannibal lowered his head and grumbled his wife's name.

She laughed, "Okay, so I made a phone call. Crucify me."

Keeping his voice low, he complained, "While I fully understand your want to have your friend welcome you home, my Love, is Logan's presence _really_ necessary?"

Whispering, Clarice explained, "Oh, come on, H…you know me better than that. It's not because I wanted my friend here. It's because I wanted my friend who is an _FBI agent_ here. We needed help with your…catering."

Bumping her shoulder against his arm caused the cooler to bang against Hannibal's leg. Clarice laughed and squeezed his hand in return as she consoled, "Sorry, if you don't agree, H, but I don't think the customs agent here is going to be as easily embarrassed as that poor kid was in Buenos Aires. Here in Washington, they've seen about everything there is to see. I doubt a few bags labeled breast milk are going to shake them up. We needed to bring out the big guns and if there's one thing Logan's good at, it's bringing out the big guns!"

Seeing Logan weaving his way through the crowd waving his FBI credentials, Hannibal shuddered. Shoulders shaking with unchecked irritation he scuffed his foot angrily against the ground as he explained, "It wasn't the breast milk itself, Clarice. It was my reference to my consumption of said milk and my jealousy as your husband that embarrassed the man."

Leaning her head against his arm, she turned and nibbled the round of his shoulder, teasing playfully, "Oh, yeah, right! A little embarrassment scared him off. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that your reputation totally precedes you. I guess everyone's afraid of a bitty bag of breast milk and not the glowing red eyes of the big bad wolf!"

Recognizing her efforts to both calm and protect, Hannibal relaxed, bared his teeth and growled playfully, snarling as he nipped and kissed her bottom lip.

"Perhaps. I've heard…my presence…tends to…shall we…say…intimidate?"

Giggling, Clarice snaked a hand around her waist and pulled him close. Their abdomens touching as much as her bulging belly would allow, she reached up and kissed him.

"Intimidate? Let's just face the fact that you scare the shit out of people. When we first got married I'll admit it bothered me."

His eyebrow arched as Hannibal pursued, "And it no longer causes discomfort?"

"Not even remotely. I think it's funny, now."

Hannibal's attention was split between Logan, now no more than a few seconds away, and the luggage being stacked on a trolley.

"If that is the case why am I being forced to deal with Logan Marley five minutes after landing in the United States?"

Clarice, too, began counting the luggage pieces, careful that everything important to the family was being off-loaded.

"Hell, just because I'm okay with that now doesn't mean I want to take any chances. Logan's a pain in the ass, but that affable charm and the badge hanging around his neck is our get-out-of-jail-free card."

All bags accounted for, Hannibal tipped the porter and reached for the handle of the trolley, preparing to tow it to the car.

"Might not Ardelia alone have served an adequate escort?"

"Yeah, maybe, but then I wouldn't have had the chance to see that expression on your face when you saw your buddy waiting so patiently."

Hannibal tipped his head toward Logan, dodging travelers and leaping over stacked bags to reach them.

"_Patiently?_ Hardly."

"You know he'll never let you handle the bags. Just relax. It will all be over soon." She smoothed a hand across her husband's shoulders. "He's just giving us a ride back to our house in one of the unmarked vans. We've got a ton of crap and it's not like we have a car."

"The BMW is at the garage, Clarice, and I'd arranged for transport."

"I know. I cancelled it. It wasn't suitable. We needed an escort."

"Much as I abhor public transportation a bus would have been preferable to this."

"Not with all this luggage and that cooler, H. You dodge literal and figurative bullets today. I wasn't tempting fate again. Sorry you're not happy about it, but you're going to have to take another one for the team."

Grousing at Logan's approach, Hannibal conceded, "Yes, my Love."

More out of breath than a marathoner at the finish line, Logan burst through the crowd, arms raised in victory much like the winner breaking the tape. Rolling her eyes, Ardelia was no more than two or three steps behind.

As Ardelia and Clarice hugged, Hannibal approached Logan and extended his hand. Eyes sparkling with excitement, voice dripping with enthusiasm, Logan gripped his hand and shook enthusiastically.

"It is so good to see you, Doc!"

Hannibal nodded, attempting to present equal interest.

"It is good to see you as well, Logan."

He stepped aside and introduced Lady Murasaki to both Ardelia and Logan, as young Hannibal, hands clasped in front of his body, waited patiently.

Adult introductions complete, father extended a hand to reach back toward his son as he announced proudly, "And of course, you remember my son, Hannibal. Hannibal this is your Aunt Ardelia and your Uncle Logan. I'm certain you recall."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Oh my god, he said daddy so clearly!" Ardelia beamed, "and he's so grown up looking. He's absolutely adorable!"

Kneeling in front of the boy, Logan held up a hand and without speaking, waited for a high-five.

Unfamiliar with the tradition, Devyni turned to his father with a quizzical expression.

Hannibal placed a firm palm on his son's back. He urged the boy forward, explaining, "He's waiting for you to pat your hand against his. It is a form of greeting."

Logan crab-walked closer, encouraging, "Yeah, high-five me, little dude. Don't leave me hanging!"

With no small amount of trepidation, Devyni touched his hand to Logan's.

Thrilled with the interaction, Logan pumped his fist, enthusing, "Yes! That's it, little dude! I missed you! Do you remember me? Really?"

Young Hannibal stood quietly, as he explained, "Yes. I remember you quite well, Uncle Logan. You played with me when I was very small and I recall that you play very differently than my Daddy does. I don't mean to be rude, but I'm curious…what is a_ dude_?"

Not wanting Dev to use the moniker, Hannibal jumped in, explaining, "It is a name that can mean boy or man. Though your uncle uses it as an affectionate appellation it is extremely informal. Do _not_ use it."

"I won't, Daddy."

Ardelia's amazement was reflected in her ever-widening eyes and her elevated tone, "Whoa! Clarice…I know you said he could talk but he can _really_ talk!"

Young Hannibal was shocked by the reactions, answering politely, "Yes, I can. Why are you surprised?"

Conscious of the crowds pressing closer, Logan lifted the cooler and began pushing through curious onlookers and amateur photographers capturing the family on cellphones.

Equally aware of the presence of strangers, Hannibal lifted his son in his right arm and held him tightly. His eyes began shifting, searching for any threat. With his left, he gripped Clarice's hand, keeping her close as well.

Pushing forward, Logan began waving people to one side or another, his voice booming orders, as he directed the Lecter clan through the airport. As they walked he spoke in utter bewilderment, "Surprised? Hell yeah, I mean…what? What the hell? Little dude talks better than_ I_ do! When the _heck_ did that happen?"

_Little dude? _

Hannibal resisted the temptation to respond with, _at birth_, instead stating simply"He has been acquiring language for months, Logan." Hannibal bit his tongue to avoid correcting Logan in front of his son, instead explaining to the boy, "Yes Hannibal, children your age are normally speaking but their vocabulary is not as advanced as yours."

"In what way am I more advanced?"

Perhaps worried the conversation might take an awkward turn, Clarice explained, "Your use of language is very advance, Dev. I looked it up. Average vocabulary for a child your age normally ranges from two or three words upwards of fifteen for a bright toddler."

Young Hannibal's eyebrows furrowed as he began to extrapolate, his eyes tracking quickly as if searching for additional questions before asking, "If acquiring fifteen words by my age is considered bright and I know many, many more words than fifteen, what am I?"

Now at the van, Hannibal secured his son in the car seat and beamed fatherly pride as he asserted, "You are the son of an exceptional mother. You are my son. You cannot be likened to other children."

Hannibal held the door, assisting his wife's entrance into the vehicle. Clarice took her seat in the third row of the van in order to sit behind Devyni.

Hannibal then helped his aunt onto the middle bench just beside young Hannibal's car seat. With the good doctor's assistance, Ardelia climbed in and sat in the third row with Clarice.

_The front seat…beside Logan…Jesus…_

Young Hannibal appeared confused, asking with a tone of measured disappointment, _"Likened_? I don't know that word, Daddy. Does that mean other children won't_ like _me?"

Buckling her seatbelt, Clarice inserted quickly, "No, Dev. Likened means compared to, but don't worry about comparing yourself to other kids. You're going to go to school soon and you're going to make a lot of friends. Just be yourself and don't worry about anything else."

Placing the luggage in the storage area of the van, and bounding around to hop in the front seat, Logan excited, "School! That's great, little dude! School's fun!"

Slipping into the front passenger seat appearing nowhere near as enthused, Hannibal's head whipped around to focus on his wife.

"School? Clarice? We've not discussed young Hannibal attending school."

"What's there to discuss, H? We've got to get Dev around kids his own age. He needs to be exposed to normal children."

Hannibal growled, "_Normal _children? How pedestrian."

Lady Murasaki very quietly inserted, "Not pedestrian, dearest nephew, necessary."

Agreeing with Clarice, Ardelia supported, "I don't know about normal or not, but I'm sure Dev would do well in school. He's a sweet little guy. He'll have a ton of friends and lord knows the work won't give him a problem."

Preparing to respond, Clarice gave Dev a book to occupy him. Not that they were saying anything he couldn't hear, but it wouldn't do to have all of his attention focused solely on the topic.

As Dev began reading silently, Logan watched in the rear-view mirror.

"Hey look at little man pretending he's reading. He's trying to show us he's ready for school right now."

His tone dripping with indignation, Hannibal stated, "My son does not _pretend_ to read. _He reads_."

Ardelia turned to Clarice.

"What? He can _read?"_

Clarice flapped her hand in front of her face most likely in an attempt to get the adults to lower their voices and keep the appearance of shock to a minimum.

"Yeah, he's been reading a for a couple of weeks now. Maybe more. We just noticed."

"You just noticed," Hannibal inserted, "I was well aware of the fact."

Logan's eyes were so long on the rear-view mirror that Hannibal was forced to place his hand to correct the steering wheel lest the van strike the curb.

"Mind the road, Logan. I wish to arrive in one piece, not splattered across the windshield."

Shifting his eyes forward, Logan apologized, "Sorry, Doc…but wow…wow…if he's already reading you really do need to get him into some kind of brilliant-genius-baby-school."

Not happy to be entertaining this conversation at all, much less in the company of others, Hannibal's tone was snappish, scoffing, "Nonsense. I am perfectly capable of attending to my son's education. I was schooled by private tutors and my preparation was unparalleled."

When Clarice was certain Dev was thoroughly enthralled by his book, she rejoined, "That's all well and good and we all know you're brilliant, but you don't exactly suffer fools well. Let's be honest, H, the world has more simpletons than sages and he's got to learn how to deal with everyone. Dev isn't you. There are going to be a lot of people who get on his nerves over the years. They can't all become foie gras."

A simmer of amusement bubbled throughout the van with even Lady Murasaki laughing quietly at the cleverly veiled reference to Hannibal's cannibalism.

The man himself was not amused. Clearly exasperated, he argued, "But, Clarice…"

Lifting a hand in protest, she interrupted, "No buts and I mean it, H. He's not gonna live in an ivory tower. He's going to school."

Logan added, "Oh, come on, Doc. You know you're gonna have to say it sooner or later so why don't you just cowboy up and spit it out?"

Hannibal shifted his steely-eyed expression to Logan.

"_Cowboy up? _By all means, please, do enlighten me, Logan."

"Just say, _Yes, dear, _and move on_._ I mean it's not like you're winning this argument. You gotta know when it's time to cut your losses, dude. You know what I've learned living with Dee?"

Hannibal groaned, "What, Logan, have you learned, pray tell?"

As if the advice was being welcomed with open arms, Logan effused, "If I agree, she's happy. If she's happy, I'm happy and since I really like being happy, I say, 'Yes, dear. Then she smiles, I smile and we're all happy."

"Thank you, Logan. That is sage advice, I'm sure."

Dev lifted his eyes from the book, watching the interaction.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, my son?"

"Am I the reason you are fighting with everyone?"

"No, my son. We are not fighting. We are having a discussion. Perhaps it is slightly heated, but it is in no way a fight and, no, you are not the reason."

"But you are talking about me going to school and you don't sound happy."

"I am not happy with this discussion, no."

"If my going to school makes you unhappy, I won't go. You can be my friend and I'll stay home with you always."

This loving gesture touched Hannibal. He turned and reached for his son's hand, his heart swelling, as he corrected, "Thank you, Dev. You're a very good son, but I've just realized your mother is right. You'll start school as soon as you are able. I want you to have many, many friends with whom you can play."

"Just like you have Uncle Logan?"

Hannibal bristled, "Yes, my brilliant boy. Like I have Uncle Logan."

He turned to Clarice. "Not a daycare facility, my Love. A proper school."

"Of course, H. We'll start visiting them this week."

* * *

The day and evening were filled with unpacking, and opening the home. After dinner, Lady Murasaki, tired from the travel, excused herself to her wing. Clarice was taking a relaxing bath while Hannibal put his son to sleep. After the boy's bath and story, Hannibal set his son in the crib and covered him with a blanket. Young Hannibal pushed the covering aside and sat up.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, my son?"

"My Uncle Logan? Is he an actual relative?"

Hannibal stroked his son's head.

"No, not a blood relative, but he is marrying Ardelia and she is your mother's dearest friend. They are very like sisters so Ardelia has been given the title of aunt to honor that friendship. Logan will be marrying Ardelia, thus the honorary title of uncle."

Devyni rested his head on his pillow.

"I didn't think he was related."

Once more covering his son, Hannibal rubbed his the boy's back seeking to comfort.

"And why is that, Devyni?"

"Well…I don't wish to be unkind and I really do like him very much. I remember well how much fun he is to play with."

"You aren't being unkind if you share your thoughts with me. We are alone, my son. There is nothing you cannot tell me."

Obviously disturbed, Devyni sat up once more.

"Uncle Logan wasn't injured in any way? Maybe he bumped his head when he was a little boy?"

"Not in any way that would impact his daily functioning, no. What are you on about?"

"I think when Uncle Logan was my age…"

Young Hannibal didn't finish the sentence.

"When Uncle Logan was your age, what? Please continue."

"When Uncle Logan was my age…I think he knew less than fifteen words."

"That is very likely, my son…very likely indeed."

**Until the next chapter, my friends! **

**LH**


	64. Chapter 64

**Author's note: Special thanks to Exinferis for contributing the liver recipe. Butchers know how to handle meat! One tweet and I get not only a recipe, but oodles of inspiration! The #NMSL crew have united on twitter for sure! Thanks, Hannimaniacs! So much fun!**

**LEAD ME NOT INTO TEMPTATION**

After tying an apron around his waist to protect his trousers, Hannibal inspected the liver. Turning it over, smoothing his fingers over the flesh, he was pleased to find it healthy. Humming, Una Furtiva Lagrima, he debated the merits of renditions by Pavarotti and Gigli as he reached his right hand toward his knife block. Walking his fingertips across the handles he found just the right one. Slipping it from the wooden sheath, he then reached with his left hand to grip the beechwood handle of his sharpening tool. Confident, he angled blade for the desired edge and began sweeping the blade against the butcher's steel.

Entering the room, Clarice stood beside him watching his muscles flex beneath the tight white tee shirt as he hand-honed the cutlery.

"Why are you going so old-school, H. We have an electric sharpener."

"Well, aside from the fact that I am, as you say, _old-school_, this is different. It's…personal. I should like to savor every moment. It will be quite a long time, if ever, that I have this honor."

Clarice peeked toward the oven. "Oh my god, do I smell fresh bread baking?"

He shifted his eyes to the oven, the action of sharpening the blade second nature. Hannibal barely attended to the process as he responded, "Indeed. I need a freshly baked herbal loaf to provide for my breadcrumbs. Smells delightful, does it not? Thyme, parsley, coriander…a bit of rosemary for good measure…it will make an exceptionally tasty coating to the liver."

"Seems an awful lot of trouble when you can just use store bought."

His head whipping around, Hannibal simply stared.

Waving a hand to dismiss her own comment, Clarice laughed, "Okay, okay…I get the hint. No shortcuts. How are you preparing him…uh…it?"

Taking pleasure in the innocently misspoken word, as it reflected a level of comfort with the process, Hannibal grinned. Looking off in the distance as he considered the preparation, he reflected on just how far he and Clarice had come together. When their relationship was in its infancy he'd promised not to consume human flesh.

Here, she stood beside him as he prepared the meal once considered taboo. He'd been willing to change. Offered the condition without reservation in order to earn her love, and she'd accepted. Now, as their love grew and their relationship evolved, she offered her love unconditionally. This gesture…it meant she accepted him. Fully. The thought weaved through his mind as he stared off into space, reciting the recipe as if it floated on the air in front of him.

"I shall marinate the sliced liver in a full-bodied red wine for an hour, perhaps two. I'll then crumble the bread, coat the flesh, make butter and pan fry the cutlets…I think a light rocket salad with balsamic drizzle would do nicely. Maybe seasonal potatoes, thinly sliced and perhaps sautéed in duck fat. Yes. That would be lovely."

Clarice leaned close. Hannibal noticed her hair spilling over her shoulders. He inhaled until his chest hurt, wanting to gather every bit of her scent to him, within him. She reached out and lightly trilled her fingertips down the length of his arm.

Whenever the two were within reach of each other either she touched him or he grasped for her. With the scent of fresh meat hanging heavy, it called to mind past preparations. Hannibal's incarceration began to subvert his conscious thoughts. With his wife beside him, the thought of her just out of reach, of his body trapped behind the glass clutched at this chest. It was difficult to breathe. This deeply felt denial made their access to one another an even more precious thing to him. No longer did they pass items through a rusty tray wedged within that impenetrable wall. She was here. She was his.

_Take nothing from him. That's what they told her. It's what they told everyone. And they'd all listened. Everyone feared except my magnificent Clarice…so young. If she'd followed the rules, or worse, if she'd been fearful, all hope would have been lost._

Hannibal pondered his wife's bravery as he continued to sharpen the blade. Clarice toyed with the belt loop of his waistband. Hooking her finger within, she tugged.

"Did you say you're going to _make_ your own butter?"

"Unquestionably. Store-bought just wouldn't do. I am seeking a symphony of flavors, Clarice. Each layer will add complexity. Each flavor must meld yet be present enough within the recipe that the tastes stand alone. It is a delicate balance."

"Only the best for our Mario. It was pretty goddamned nice of him to come."

A wicked smile spanned Hannibal's face.

"Yes, my Love…only the best for our _guest_."

Amused by his wife's gallows humor, Hannibal continued to grin. Setting the sharpener on the counter he used his thumb to test the edge. Nodding, satisfied with the blade, he began to slice the meat into very thin and perfectly even four-ounce cutlets. "I'm not as of yet certain as to his taste, but, at the very least, he was truthful."

Walking around her husband, Clarice aligned their bodies and placed her ear between his shoulders. Resting there it seemed more than a hug and Hannibal thought she might be listening to something. It was so frequent a gesture that Hannibal considered the action. Was it the beat of his heart that soothed or the deep timbre of his voice echoing within his body? Either way, she took the same comfort in his presence that he took in hers. That thought warmed him.

Sliding her hands over his hips, she smoothed her palms from his abdomen to his chest massaging them over his muscles.

"Truthful? In what way, H?"

"He obviously wasn't much of a drinker. The liver is exceptionally healthy and, with your preparation, I'm pleased to say that our friend traveled quite well."

"_Well, _huh?" Slapping him playfully on his bottom, her voice oozing sarcasm, she teased, "Yeah, I guess the two percent of him that _traveled_, anyway."

Hannibal's laugh was hearty. "Point taken, my Love." Turning his body within her embrace to face his wife, he took on a humble tone, "While we are alone, allow me to thank you, Clarice. Your…approval of my nature is a gesture of love and acceptance that I will never forget."

Clarice leaned against her husband's body. Resting her head against his shoulder, she smiled.

"No worries, H?"

Hannibal kissed the top of her head.

"No, Clarice, none at all with you by my side. You?"

"Not a one, but I'm glad we're home. If you don't mind, while you're getting dinner together, your aunt and I are going to take the baby to the park."

He responded cheerfully, "I don't mind at all. Enjoy your time together."

Clarice scanned the counter, looking into the crystal bowl Hannibal normally put his keys. Finding it empty, she questioned, "Where are the keys to the car, H?"

Lowering his head, amused realization shining in his smile, Hannibal informed, "The keys are in my front right pocket." His eyes sparkled mischief, as he qualified, "Sorry to say I cannot retrieve them…" He raised his hands, gory from trimming flesh, "…but I am somewhat indisposed at the moment."

Clearly amused, Clarice rolled her eyes.

"I'm supposed to believe that wasn't planned, right?"

"Nope. Not planned, though neither am I disappointed. It is simply the result of a quick trip to the market." He leaned toward his wife and began to kiss her neck, whispering in her ear flirtatiously, "You may help yourself to them if you wish, my Love. I'll not be offended."

"Fine. I'll get them myself, thank you very much!" Grasping his belt, Clarice yanked playfully, pulling her husband toward her until their bodies touched.

Arms outstretched to avoid touching her with bloodied hands, Hannibal chuckled, "I am at your mercy, my Love, be gentle lest the child you carry be our last."

"Payback's a bitch, H."

Clarice slipped her hand within, rooting around in his pocket. Ignoring the keys, she stroked her fingers upward to encourage arousal.

Dropping his head to her shoulder, he growled low, "_Clarice.._."

Her voice lush with temptation, she teased, "You put them in your pocket instead of where they belong so you deserve what you get."

Hannibal groaned, "How did I survive so many years, alone, without you?"

She slowly pulled her hand from his pocket and took a step back. There was now a distance between them.

Concerned at the shift, Hannibal's eyebrow arched.

"Clarice?"

Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands and stroked her thumbs upward, smoothing over the fullness of his cheeks. He forced a smile, though he was unsure of her intent.

_She is beautiful, so very beautiful._

Looking into her eyes, Hannibal wondered what she was thinking. Feeling. She'd stopped touching him when he spoke of his past. Might that have triggered the realization that he was covered in another man's blood. Had she, once more, come to her senses? Might she be offended? The offer of the liver surprised him, but she often surprised.

Unsure of her physical cues, seeking understanding, he watched. Waited.

Moving against his body, she slipped her hands over his jaw, fingers skimming along his neck, tickling the closely cropped hair at the nape. Moving upward, she sought the longer locks swept back from his forehead. Fingers weaving through his hair, she gripped his head and very gently pulled him to her.

_My Love…will you kiss me though a man's blood colors my hands?_

Clarice tipped her chin upward to seek his lips.

Finding the rush of stimuli too strong, the raw emotion of the moment overwhelming, Hannibal's eyes fluttered closed. He opened his arms wider, stretching the span of his chest, exposing his body to hers.

_Be mindful. Do not to lose control and reach for her body. The stain of this man's blood is mine, not hers, to bear. _

His nostrils flared. Her scent was nearer now. He could feel her approach, body hormonally heated, contrast with the coolness of the vernal air. The wafting currents shifted as the distance unhurriedly closed between them.

"Clarice, I_…"_

She placed a finger to his lips and whispered, "Shh…don't talk, H."

Dragging the finger over his chin and down his throat, she traced a path to his breast bone. Pressing her palms to his chest she stretched upward, her soft lips seeking his.

This loving, tranquil touch caused his heart to thump wildly. She moved within the breadth of his spanned arms and, as she entered the bloody embrace, he could smell the iron-tinged serum to his right and left. He could hear the pulsing of his own blood as it whooshed within his ears. He inhaled deeply, holding the breath. It seemed an eternity before, finally, her luscious mouth closed over his.

_Dearest Clarice…_

They kissed for a time, their heads rolling rhythmically, intent on more fully connecting. His senses flooded with stimuli. Hannibal thought to himself, as her tongue swam with his, that he could live a lifetime simply on the taste of her. The kiss ended with Hannibal, hungry for more, chasing her mouth to add several light pecks.

With each tiny touch of his lips to hers, Clarice giggled. When their lips finally parted, she placed her cheek to his and whispered, "And to answer your question…not any better than I survived without you, H."

"We are quite the pair, yes?"

"That's an understatement." Once more reaching within his pocket she tugged the keychain free, jingling it in front of him.

"I know you don't want anyone in the kitchen while you cook anyway, so we won't be back until just before dinner. You're having liver. What about the rest of us?"

"Bacon wrapped Wagyu beef with sautéed mushrooms and onions, both because I want the aromas to marry, and I am concerned with your iron levels. A bit of red meat will do well for your blood supply."

Clarice nodded, confirming, "Smart. Dev will see cuts of meat and think we are eating the same thing."

Hannibal began to consolidate the trimmed portions to discard them appropriately. He swept the knife's blade against the cutting board sweeping the remnants into a plastic container. He then sealed the container and flipped the cutting board.

"He will both see and scent the difference at table and I'll not lie to the boy, Clarice. To avoid questions, would you rather I take my meal before you arrive?"

"That depends on what you mean when you say you'll not lie. He's brilliant, H. If he asks questions, what are you going to say?"

Hannibal set down the knife. His head inclined as he offered, "I shall tell him it is not steak, it is liver."

Clarice countered quickly, "And what if he wants to taste it?"

Equal to the debate, he responded, "I will inform our son that it is not an option because liver is an organ meat."

Enjoying the verbal pursuit, Clarice folded her arms over the apex of her belly and leaned against the counter. Her eyes intent, she probed, "So? Isn't that better?"

Hannibal smiled and shook his head. Not one to fall victim to interrogation, he countered quickly, "No, it is far more nutrient dense and as such is not recommended for very young children because of concerns for hypervitaminosis A."

Clarice's arms dropped to her side. Stepping closer, with a cynical look in her eyes, she challenged, "Is that true or are you just really good at bullshitting?"

"_Bullshitting,_ Clarice? _Me?_"

"Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H!"

"Heaven forbid, Clarice…heaven forbid."

* * *

As Lady Murasaki read with Devyni in the family room, Clarice moved around the kitchen. Hannibal was showering and dressing for dinner. She decided to help by carrying covered dishes to the dining room table. Scanning the kitchen, she looked for the liver. There was a platter on the stove with what she recognized by the explanation of the recipe, as the prepared liver. There was also several large bacon wrapped filets resting on another platter. In a covered dish, she additionally discovered delicate bite-sized morsels also wrapped in bacon. Recognizing the beef, she lifted the platter and the covered dish. Setting them on the table, Clarice lifted the lid of the bacon bite morsels and popped a piece in her mouth. She bit down.

Entering the room and seeing the action, Hannibal rushed to her side, grabbed her shoulder and turned her toward him. A panicked warning as he shouted, "Clarice! No!"

As her teeth sunk in a second time, her mouth flooded, not with the bacon wrapped beef she expected, but bacon mixing with the bold taste of liver.

Hands flapping wildly, her eyes widened. Speechless, her mouth dropped open.

Hannibal grabbed a linen napkin from the table, opened it and held it just under her chin.

"Spit it out, Clarice. That is _not_ beef."

Clarice clutched his hands, allowing the bite to drop into the napkin.

"Jesus, H! Jesus! Why the _fuck_ did you wrap that bastard in bacon?"

"I apologize, my love. When the scents from the filets filled the air I decided to wrap some of the small pieces of liver with bacon. It pairs well with it, so I thought the tidbits would work as a personal amuse bouche."

"But I saw you making cutlets, not cubing the meat and you had to know it would be tempting…you know how I feel about bacon!"

"I had the trimmings in a container set aside. It was not my intention to…sabotage. I clearly separated it from your food. For Christ's sake, Clarice, the dish was covered!"

Clarice pointed to the table.

"The dish with the duck-potatoes is covered too! _What the fuck!_"

Nearly panicked, Hannibal stood in the center of the dining room with the balled napkin clutched in his fist.

His mind flashed to the situation with Chavez's liver.

"Yes, you're right, of course. Give me a moment and I'll fully dispose of the offensive selections."

"What? Then are you going to eat?"

Hannibal squeezed the napkin with the partially chewed morsel. If only he'd been more careful. He taken it for granted she wouldn't sample the food. The preparation made it easy to pop in her mouth and the addition of bacon made it even more tempting…so tempting. Why had he left the room? This was unfixable. Something he couldn't take back.

Though he thought it impossible, he attempted to regroup, his fist continually squeezing the tightly-balled fabric.

"Not to worry, there is ample beef. This was an ill-conceived idea…that...that you…tasted the…liver…it's inexcusable."

Hannibal's body was shaking. He struggled for control.

_She cannot resist bacon…I know that. This was thoughtless of me…so thoughtless._

He watched her eyes. Disappointment, disgust, anger…all would have been valid emotions, but she was unreadable. Whether or not she judged him, he judged himself. Had he tempted her subconsciously? It was possible. He would never consciously betray her trust, but perhaps, somewhere deep down, he wanted her to taste…to know. Bacon. Gift-wrapped in goddamned bacon! He pushed the thought aside.

"Clarice?"

With her left hand supporting her belly, she extended her right, palm out, warning, "Don't, H! Just don't!"

Clarice stood across from her distraught husband. She could clearly see his body was shaking. She reached a hand and began to stroke his arm. Stepping forward, Hannibal dropped his head to her shoulder. He didn't want to see hurt in her eyes.

"Please…Clarice...if I could take it back…"

"Shh, H...I know."

She enfolded his trembling body within her arms, pulling him tightly to her. His body slowly calmed as she rubbed his back in ever-widening circles and quietly whispered her love to him.

When his body relaxed, melting against her own, she questioned, "H…?"

His face was buried against her neck, her pulse tapping gently at his lips. Only she could strike such terror in his heart. Though he could feel her love, he'd betrayed her trust. He was terrified at what she might say.

Hannibal breathed deeply and in one exhalation, dared to ask the question he wasn't certain he wanted answered, "Yes, my Love?"

Clarice reached between them and lifted the fist that clutched the napkin. She pressed his clenched hand to her chest. He could feel the beat of her heart against the heel.

Hannibal sighed, declaring, "My love…you move me like no other. Ask anything of me and it will be done."

She touched her forehead to his for a brief instant before replying, "I don't want you to do anything, H. It's time for dinner."

"My meal, Clarice? What will you have me do?"

She raised his fist to her mouth and placed a tender kiss on each knuckle. Peeling back each finger, she opened his hand and removed the napkin. She then tucked it in her pocket and kissed his now-open palm. Releasing his hand, she directed, "I'll take care of this, H. You just go into the kitchen and bring out the meat."

Unsure of her direction, he questioned, "To what meat are you referring, Clarice?"

"All of it, H. Liver included. On the table…every last bite."

Relief flooding his system, Hannibal embraced his wife, affirming, "Clarice, you are magnificent."

**Until the next chapter, my friends! **

**LH**


	65. BETRAYAL:The Serpent in the Garden

**BETRAYAL: The Serpent in the Garden**

As the family sat down to dinner, Hannibal placed amply filled china plates within sterling silver chargers in front of each family member. Devyni, too, ate from the exquisite dinnerware. Thirsty, he reached with fierce determination for his tiny silver cup. Grasping the handle with his left hand he lifted it carefully to his lips. His nostrils flared over the bowl, assessing, smiling when he recognized his mother's milk. His hand was shaky at first, but the boy quickly steadied the vessel with his right hand, careful not to spill.

Distracted momentarily from intrusive thoughts, Hannibal watched closely. Unlike his father, the boy seemed to prefer his left hand. Curious, he made a mental note to begin averaging the amount of times the boy used each. That done, his focus shifted from his son to the table where his still-empty plate loomed.

_I've betrayed you, Clarice...what can I do to make it right..._

Lady Murasaki and Clarice were assisting Devyni, cutting his meat and explaining the ingredients assembled on his plate. Hannibal could hear laughter as the boy streamed questions. They seemed to be enjoying the meal. He looked to Clarice for any hint that she might be offended or upset. She didn't seem to be, but then again, she was often unreadable.

_Are you angry with me, my Love? No. You were far too kind. Disappointed? Perhaps. I shall carry the burden of the stigma I've placed on you to my grave...I've marked you. Branded you without consent. Am I the serpent in the garden? Has my temptation evicted you from paradise? _

Staring at the plated liver, he hadn't a clue what to do. Though the food he prepared for himself rested on the table a mere three inches in front of him, the distance stretched out before him, seeming infinite.

Clarice's eyes flicked to her husband. There he sat, staring, first at the platter filled with liver, then to his empty plate and back again. Inhaling, his shoulders rose slowly. The exhalation huffed in one sudden burst dropping his shoulders with uncommon speed, such was the emotional weight of his sigh.

Though Lady Murasaki attended only to Devyni, Hannibal was aware of his wife's eyes. If she noticed his turmoil, she didn't comment. Instead shifting her attention to her son as she beamed enthusiastically, "So, Dev, I made a few calls this morning. We're going to look at a school for you tomorrow. What do you think? Are you excited?"

The boy's blue eyes sparkled like sapphires in the sun. His voice reflected his barely contained enthusiasm, words boiling over, tripping with anticipation, "I…I'm very excited Mommy. Auntie and I have been reading books about going to school. Did you know they have snack time and recess? It's when you eat something tasty, then go outside and play with your friends!"

Hannibal muttered under his breath, "_Recess._ Indeed."

Focusing on the response, Devyni's eyes immediately fixed on his father.

With careful hands, the boy set down the cup of milk. His eyes wide, his voice brimming with contrition, he offered, "I'm sorry, Daddy. Was I being rude? Is recess a_ bad_ thing?"

Immediately regretting the comment, he looked up from the table and sought his son's innocent eyes, now focused so intently on his disapproval.

"I'm sorry, no, my son. Recess is not a bad thing."

Deciding to ignore the plated liver, Hannibal stretched his arm over the offerings and reached for the salad.

Clarice, realizing her husband's upset had more to do with his empty plate than his son's future school experience, added, "Daddy just feels bad because he missed out on all of those fun things when he was a little boy." She stroked her hand the length of her husband's arm, encouraging, "Isn't that right, H?"

Without lifting his eyes from the bowl, he stabbed aggressively at the arugula, impaling a forkful as if it had done him some great offense.

His response was far more gentle than his physicality reflected, agreeing, "Yes, my Love."

Devyni, a sensitive boy, hurt by his father's experience, frowned.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I wish you could have had fun at school when you were a little boy. It makes me sad that I'm a happy boy and you were not."

Transferring the salad, Hannibal scraped a persistent leaf from the ornate serving fork onto his plate. Nothing but frustration filled his mouth as he set the selection to the side. The greens, stagnant on his plate, were now as ignored as the rest of the food in front of him.

"My past is not your burden, my son, but you should know, though the memories are not tranquil, I would not change a moment of it."

Devyni's eyebrows knitted tightly, concern poured from each spoken word as he questioned with angelic sincerity in his voice, "Why, Daddy? Why wouldn't you want to change it so you could go to a school with lots of friends and have snacks and recess?"

Hannibal leaned his back against the padded upholstery of the antique claw-footed chair. His right arm, thrown away from the table, dropped over the curved scrollwork of his throne-like seat. He flattened his left palm on his forehead, smoothing his hair back from his face.

"Because, though the journey was wrought with despair, traveling that beaten path delivered me into the arms of your mother and that I would not change for all the world."

The response must have eased the boy's mind. He smiled.

"You love Mommy very much, don't you Daddy?"

The image of Clarice, eyes wide as she bit down on the liver had branded his consciousness. The image haunted. That he'd tainted her such, he could not shake.

_Bacon. What was I thinking? I'm so much more observant than that. I never miss a fact, not a thought; all is planned. Nothing overlooked. Yet, if that is true, if all is planned, was this planned as well? Did I subliminally seek to betray her trust? Could I? I've done far worse to so many others, but never her…never Clarice…my Clarice._

Uncertain of his earlier motives, he was certain in this.

Though his comment was directed at his son, he reached for Clarice's hand. Squeezing, he affirmed, "Yes, my son. I love your mother. Dearly."

She squeezed back. She smiled.

Devyni looked up from his plate. His eyebrow arched.

"Dearly? How much is _dearly_?"

Chuckling that his son believed the word might represent a unit of measure, he corrected, "Dearly is not an amount. It reflects very strong feelings. More than mere words can express."

The boy rested his chin on a tightly balled fist. Hannibal's mind flashed to the Rodin he'd seen at the Musee Rodin several years prior.

A thought took hold. Devyni lifted his head and, with a widening smile, continued, "If you can't express your love for Mommy through words, how can you?"

"Through you, my son, and soon, through your sister."

Thrilled at being included, Devyni lifted his fork and began to chase a piece of meat around his plate. His hand hovered as if he wanted to push the food onto his fork, but understood the action to be incorrect. When he'd gotten hold of the bite, he paused, reflecting, "I'm going to be a very good brother, Daddy. I'm going to love my sister very much."

Pleased with himself, the boy lifted the fork carefully to his mouth and, as capturing the food represented no small victory, took an exaggerated bite.

Half-smiling at his son's antics, Hannibal nodded, agreeing, "Of that I am certain."

Continuing to attend to his food wrangling, Devyni questioned, "Did you have a sister, too?"

Hannibal's voice lowered, eyes darkening as he confirmed, "Yes. Yes, I had a sister."

Not certain where the boy would take the conversation, Lady Murasaki immediately sought to distract, placing several olives on Devyni's plate, interjecting, "These are you favorites. Perhaps you can put them on your fingers. They have little holes in them."

Though he immediately began to chase them around his plate, Devyni corrected, "No, I'd like to eat them, but I won't be putting them on my fingers, thank you. I don't think Daddy would like it if I did that at the table. That is a picnic game, I think. Daddy said finger foods are only for picnics." He then shifted his singular attention once more to his topic, pursuing, "You were a very good big brother, weren't you Daddy?"

Swallowing hard, Hannibal agreed, "As much as it was in my power to be so, yes."

Devyni set his fork down and reached once more for his milk. Just before lifting the cup to his lips, pensive, he stated, "You will be very proud of me. I'm going to grow up to be just like you."

"I am now, and will always be quite proud of you, my son. As you carry my name, it is my hope you will one day say the same of me."

"I am Daddy. I am very proud to be your son and I like having your name."

"Would that you always feel the same. If you'll excuse me. I have something to dispose of."

Standing, Hannibal reached for the platter of liver and the covered dish with the bacon-wrapped bits. He turned from the table.

Clarice stood as well and grasped his arms, stalling his movement.

"Where are you going, H?"

Hannibal looked at her hands, vice-like fingers gripping his wrists.

"To the kitchen, Clarice."

As Hannibal attempted to proceed, she tightened her hold and tugged, yanking him back to his place by her side. By the strength of her grip, it was obvious she was invested in keeping him at table.

"Why, H?"

Setting the food beside his place setting, he took his seat. His voice lowered. His head throbbed. "You _know_ why."

Still standing above him she pointed to the liver offerings and urged, "You will fill that plate with the food you prepared and you will eat your dinner."

"Clarice…"

Ignoring his protestation, she gently raked her fingers through his hair. Her voice was gentle as she soothed, "H, I know why you're doing this to yourself and belief me, this self-flagellation, this mea culpa is unnecessary. What can I do to prove to you that it's okay?"

He turned from her touch.

"There is nothing you can do...I've betrayed you…your trust..."

Grasping his shoulders, she pulled his body into an embrace.

"Trust? What does any of this have to do with you? You can't be blamed for my own carelessness and the last time I checked, my own stupidity isn't going to be a terminal illness. I survived the experience, H."

Closing his eyes, his cheek rested against the shape of his unborn child. Hearing the whooshing sounds of life within, he relaxed slightly. Speaking softly, Hannibal acknowledged, "I understand this...betrayal, Clarice. I was introduced to my first _experience _without my knowledge. I had no idea what I'd eaten…who I'd…"

Clarice interrupted, "H! _Stop!_"

He wrapped his arms around her body, acknowledging, "As you say, my Love."

Perhaps deciding, she pushed her husband back in his seat. He dropped his arms to his side, lost.

Animated, Clarice took charge.

"Fine! You're freaked out because I tasted your food without knowing what I was eating? Is that what's bothering you?"

He nodded. "Yes. The decision has always been yours to make and you've always been exceedingly clear. That you allowed me this..._privilege_ at all was a huge concession. I've rewarded your kindness by indirectly tempting…you were duped into consuming..."

"You're being ridiculous, H. I'm not injured...It tasted fine, H. _I'm_ fine!"

"The broth tasted fine as well, Clarice, but, the long-term effects...I know how it feels. I know how _you_ will feel...about me, my Love."

Clarice stepped closer.

"You have no idea how I feel, H, and don't you presume to tell me!" Unrelenting, she insisted,"This isn't the same. You were innocent. I'm not!"

"You _were_. Perhaps you are no longer."

Clarice raised her voice, asserting, "Fine! You need me to make a conscious choice. Fine!"

She grasped the cover, lifted it from the chafing dish and placed it to the side. She then reached for her fork, dipped it within the vessel, and, poking downward, stabbed her selection:a piece of bacon-wrapped liver. Turning the fork, in front of her face, the tidbit glistened. Opening her mouth, she lifted her silverware bringing the crisped piece threaded within the tines, to her lips.

Hannibal's eyes widened.

_"What _are you_ doing? Clarice?_"

Without another word, she popped it into her mouth.

"No…no."

Leaping to his feet, he reached for a napkin and, as he had earlier, waited for her to spit the food into his covered hand. Instead, she held his hand and chewed slowly as she folded each of his fingers to fully enclose the fabric within his fist. Clarice paused to kiss his hand. She continued to chew.

Watching her mandibular muscles shift, Hannibal's mouth opened slightly. His eyes glazed over as he slowly lowered to his seat, his head shaking, he whispered, "Clarice…no…no…"

Swallowing, she sat as well. She then reached for his shoulders and turned his body until he was forced to shift his legs. Now sitting face-to-face, shins touching, she placed her hands on his knees. His eyes were downcast. He could not look at her.

Her voice was stern, but there was comfort there. No reproach, she urged, "You look at me right now, Hannibal Lecter!"

His eyes ticked up to meet hers, though his head hung low. Clarice stretched to lightly grasp his face, very gently tilting his chin upward. Their eyes were locked, hers resolute, his uncharacteristically uncertain.

He stopped talking, overcome as he blinked away the stinging in his eyes. It was difficult to hold back the surge of conflicting emotions. Uncertainty bubbled a scorching magma within his chest.

_Have I sullied your soul or have you reclaimed mine? _

He thought that either she'd performed a miracle with this the purest form of love and acceptance imaginable, or he would judge himself guilty of the most heinous act of corruption he could ever commit. The angst of indecision spread a widening cavern in his chest, an infinite sinkhole, threatening to swallow him whole. This emptiness was something he understood only she could fill. Breath eluded him.

Throaty with emotion, breath hitching, he rasped, "Clarice…I never...wanted…or, maybe I did…I don't know...but you...why, Clarice? You have to tell me, why?"

She kissed his forehead, her lips pressing just a bit longer, perhaps to assure him of her love.

"It isn't a new lifestyle choice, H. It's a one-time gesture. I wanted to show you that you are my husband, the only man I will ever love and that you will _not_ be required to change who or what you are to earn this family. I…_we_ love you…_every single part of you_. Now, not another word about it. Understood?"

"Understood."

Serving him several portions of both selections of liver as well as the side dishes, his wife heaped his plate with food.

"Now be a good role model for your son by eating your dinner. All of it!"

"Yes, my Love."

Devyni, witness to the entire event, sat awestruck and perhaps a little afraid, worrying, "Is Daddy okay, Mommy?"

Hannibal placed the first bit of human flesh within his mouth. Biting down slowly, his eyes fluttered closed. His mouth watered.

Feeling his breathing correcting to align with her own, Clarice rubbed her husband's back, affirming, "Daddy is perfect, Dev. Your Daddy is absolutely perfect."

_Clarice...you are magnificent._

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	66. Chapter 66

**LOVE REIGNS**

Hannibal slept soundly.

With Chavez and his drug ring eliminated, the steady stream of intrusive thoughts had been vented. For the first night in many months, as the shroud of sleep overtook, no doors in his memory palace creaked open. The constant buzz of stress that had hummed just beneath the surface stilled. There were no longer a series of plans waiting to be enacted and as such, the pressure of Death ceased its pulsing behind his eyes.

His enemies, those who might do harm had been systematically slaughtered. Content, he rested on his back, with Clarice curled against him. Sensations of his wife's hair sweeping back and forth, raking across his cheeks, her long, lean thighs squeezing his hips consumed his every thought. The sights and scents of her breasts flooded his senses. The sweet aroma of her milk deluged his sinuses, settling on his taste buds, coating his tongue.

He memorized the twin tips of coral centered on bobbing isles of cream. Though voracious, he allowed a moment to lock the image in his mind's eye to sketch at a later time. Breaching upward, feeling the tightened buds of flesh brushing lightly against his lips, his tongue pushed forward hoping to capture a precious orb of fluid pearling on the left peak.

The rocking motion entranced, the sensations both hypnotic and ethereal. A sigh. Heaven. His eyes crushed closed, overcome by the flooding warmth as the weight of her body, her heat surrounding his, squeezed, clutched. A gasp. The combined warmth, the heady scent of their arousal combining, fueled his hunger. He reached for her breasts, arching upward to capture, sealing his lips, latching. His jaws worked furiously as he took his fill. Loins burning, he gripped her thighs. His breathing increased, hitching as his heart pounded, thumping with such abandon against his wife's cheek she roused.

"H…H…is everything okay? Are you okay?"

The motion of her head rising from his sleeping body lifted Hannibal from his subconscious mind. He groaned. Awake, too soon.

Rubbing her hand on his chest, she called softly, "H…your heart is pounding. How do you feel?"

A growling huff of disappointment bellowed from his chest as Hannibal's eyes flitted open. Pulling his wife within his strong embrace, he inhaled deeply hoping to capture some of the scents that had so motivated his dreams.

The slow exhalation that followed caused a shudder in his shoulders. He grumbled, "It would be feeling much better had you allowed an additional moment before awakening me, Clarice. I was rather enjoying your _attentions_ and am now feeling less than fulfilled."

Gently scooping his right arm beneath Clarice, Hannibal swept her torso over his body. Sliding his left hand beneath her right thigh he opened her legs and pulled her over his hips. With his insistent assistance, she now sat straddled on top of him.

"Jesus, you could have just asked, H."

Gently brushing his fingertips down the length of her arms, Hannibal shifted his hips. Shimmying against her backside he made no effort to hide his current state of elevated interest.

"I doubt that would have helped my case. Why? If I had asked, would you have accommodated my…_request?"_

Playfully bucking his hips upward, he prodded, tempting. Teasing.

With his playful poking there was no way she could ignore the state of his arousal. Instead of conceding to his obvious intentions, she scooted forward and playfully slapped a hand on the center of his chest.

"How many times do I have to tell you to put that thing away before you hurt someone!"

"No pain, Clarice, unless a nibble or two will turn you on?"

Hannibal pulled her to him and began nibbling her neck, taking teasing bites, tickling her throat with his teeth.

Clarice gripped his shoulders. Squirming, she attempted to push upward, but Hannibal's grip was too strong. Struggling to free herself, laughing almost uncontrollably, she insisted, "Jesus, H! We don't have time for this now! I swear to god you're incorrigible! We've got to get the baby ready for our visit the school. Don't you ever get your fill?"

"Only when I'm dead, Clarice, and not a moment before!"

Hannibal released her throat, arching upward to tease at her breasts. Now free, Clarice leaned back, folding an arm across her breasts to shield them.

Kissing and nibbling at the flesh of the buffering forearm, Hannibal entreated, "Please, I ask but a taste, Clarice. Would you deny me that which sustains me?"

"As if that would sustain you for more than two minutes! And damn straight, I'm denying the _hell_ out of you! You behave yourself at this school today and you can have me to your heart's content tonight, but right now, it's about little H, not big H!"

"I wanted it to be about getting-bigger-by-the-minute-H! My Love? I'll be quick, but a moment's work, I promise."

She kissed the tip of his nose and rolled off her husband's body.

"Yeah, sorry, _quick_ is not exactly a _selling_ point."

"You've cut me to the quick, Clarice. Remember! Promises have been made and I shall hold you to them."

Clarice picked up her robe, wrapped it around her and cinched the sash with an exaggerated flourish of her hand.

"You can hold me to anything you want tonight, but for now…"

She smacked him on his bare bottom, ordering, "Now go soak your head under a hot shower while I get the little man ready."

Hannibal sat on the edge of the bed and raked the fingers of both hands briskly through his hair. Looking down, he growled his disappointment, teasing, "For now I think a cold shower is more in order, Clarice. A very, very, cold shower."

* * *

Prepared, Hannibal was dressed impeccably in a cream-colored meticulously appointed three-piece Armani linen suit. Clarice chose white shirt and a deep crimson and cream-colored tie to pair with it. He smiled at her obvious attempt to compliment the color of his eyes. She wore a cream-colored eyelet lace sundress, flowing and elegant. Ruby earrings paired her to her husband. Devyni matched with linen shorts and a bow tie carefully matched to his father's.

The family was striking, the trio walking hand in hand into the school with Dev in the center. Hannibal and Clarice beamed as the boy occasionally lifted his feet from the ground, swinging between his parents, confident they would uplift him in this, his newfound game.

They'd located a school not far from their home that specialized in Montessori education. Clarice preferred the child-centered approach and the ability for her son to socialize. Hannibal preferred the very low teacher-to-student ration. Less children in class meant less dullards per square inch. If his child was to be exposed to children of lesser mental capacity, the fewer the better, he rationalized.

The director met them at the entrance. She was perhaps mid-sixties, attractive, in a grandmotherly sort of way. Deeply carved dimples gouged rounded cheeks. Her hair was cropped short, and all white. She seemed pleasant. Effusive even, and though she greeted them with a wide smile, Hannibal could smell the stench of fear surrounding the woman.

Most likely because she was so pleased the woman was pleasant, Clarice was unusually friendly.

Watching his wife engage with the woman, Hannibal sensed her comfort. She was at ease with people now. Confident even. Introductions were swift, the woman making eye contact, if briefly, as Hannibal firmly shook her hand. He didn't smile, deciding a pleasant, neutral affect might make the woman more comfortable. Since the woman was already fearful, he felt showing his teeth might be considered predatory, if only a sub-conscious level. Instead of adding to her discomfort, he settled on a slight half-smile with a polite bow.

It was a gesture she awkwardly returned, hailing, "It is a pleasure to meet you, all. I am Director Defalco. Welcome to Maria Montessori's Children's House."

The first thing Hannibal noticed was the fact that, although it was mid-afternoon, the entire wing was quiet. His nostrils flared. The traces of students and teachers was faint, the classrooms had to be empty.

"I don't detect the presence of children or adults. Either this is not a scheduled school day or the student body is in another location."

She looked shocked, as if he'd just exposed a terrible secret.

"Actually…you're correct. It's currently the post-lunch play period so the students are outside on the playground. We'll have the rooms to ourselves, so it will give your son an opportunity to explore his future class while we discuss his needs."

Hannibal stepped closer. The woman folded her arms across her chest in a defensive posture and took a long stride backward.

Sensing her stress hormones spiking, Hannibal challenged politely, "The _entire_ student body takes their lunch and playtime collectively?"

She nodded so repetitively it seemed her head might snap off and roll away.

"Today, yes."

Hannibal continued, stepping forward. With each step forward, she took three steps back, until the woman found herself wedged beside a water fountain and a fire extinguisher.

"Your website states you have more than 120 students? Is that an accurate statistic?"

"Yes...that's accurate."

"If so, it would seem impractical for that to be your daily procedure. Shall I assume this day is significant in some way."

Beads of sweat formed beaded on her lip. Hannibal could practically hear her heartbeat as it thumped wildly within her chest.

"No…no…not significant at all. I just thought it would be…convenient…for all concerned."

Clarice looked at her husband. Her eyebrow lifted.

_You know what I'm up to, don't you, Clarice…_

Obviously knowing, she sent a hand slapping across Hannibal's shoulder. His hand launched outward, striking like a cobra, loosely gripping the wrist of the offending hand.

Director Defalco flinched, covering her eyes as if expecting a violent reaction.

Tugging playfully, Clarice wagged a finger in warning, "_Promises_ made can be quickly retracted. _You_ promised behave yourself, H."

Penitent, with a gracious bow and a sweep of his arm, Hannibal kissed then released the captured hand, atoning, "Yes, my Love."

The director trembled, peeking between splayed fingers as if terrified by the outcome.

Clarice nudged her husband and joked for the woman's benefit, "Don't let him scare you, he's just a big softy. Trust me, his bark is worse than his bite."

Watching intently, Hannibal thought he saw the slightest shudder in the woman's shoulders when she heard the word, _bite_. The thought of it amused.

Clarice continued, smoothing, "It was nice of you to clear time on your schedule. Thanks for agreeing to see us on such short notice."

_Shouldn't you thank her for clearing the entire school, Clarice?_

Though her eyes continually shifted to Hannibal, she reached to touch Clarice's hand, responding, "Not at all. What brings you to our school so late in the semester? Had your son been placed elsewhere, prior? Was there a problem?"

"No, no problems. We've just now returned to Baltimore, and…well, I know most parents think their kids are gifted, but Dev's really special so we'd like to get him into school as soon as possible."

With a gracious wave of her hand, Director Defalco gestured for the family to follow her into the first classroom on the right. It was sectioned into brightly colored centers. Each area had very organized stations with a variety of tasks and very specialized materials. The room sported a plush multi-colored rug in the middle of the room with large pillows. A rocking chair and a white marker board sat directly opposite the pillows. A reading and sharing area, Hannibal correctly assumed.

The director took a subliminally protective stance behind the rocking chair, her hand resting on the carved back, as she questioned, "Do you have any goals you would like your son to meet this year?"

Though the gesture was not wasted on her husband, Clarice appeared to be unaware of the woman's subconscious desire to keep a barrier between herself and Hannibal.

She answered, "I want him to socialize. He's never actually played with someone his own age."

The woman didn't appear shocked, though she responded, "Really? _Never?_"

"No. We've been living in Argentina and there were no children in the neighborhood. Our compound is fairly remote. But we're back home, very happy and we want Dev to be happy, too."

As Clarice spoke, '_Back home, very_ _happy, and'_, Hannibal wrested the urge to insert, '_very healthy'_. A joking reference to their over-the-phone game of cat and mouse at Union Station with Mason Verger's henchmen in tow might not have gone over with as much humor as it played out in his mind. Discretion the better part of valor, he held his tongue, though the memory pleased him immensely.

Director Defalco, still clutching the top of the rocker, beamed, "You've come to the right place! Our preschool program respects the child and his unique needs. He'll learn how to interact with his teachers as well as his peers."

Hands clasped firmly behind his back, Hannibal strolled back and forth behind the women. Though he made quite a show of looking at each station, his goal was more to stress than assess.

Curious, Devyni walked alongside his father, his tiny legs working doubly hard to keep up. Seeing his son's efforts, Hannibal slowed his pace, guiding the boy with a paternal hand centered on his back.

As Hannibal walked to and fro, the woman's head ticked back and forth. Her eyes continually sought him as she babbled about each station and its purpose within Montessori curriculum.

She rattled on endlessly. Nervous energy, he voice began to grate.

The director, eyes shifting nervously, explained the math, sensory, and language areas as well as stations directed for art, music and geography.

"As you can see each area is organized so the children can choose the activity, perform a variety of planned tasks, and return all materials as found before moving on to the next station." She turned to Devyni. Stepping around the chair, she bowed low before him, indicating, "Young man, this may be your classroom. Walk around and take a look at all of the things you will, perhaps, be learning soon."

Young Hannibal moved from space to space. Learning his lessons well at home, he had yet to speak. Though the director addressed him, she hadn't asked anything of him that required a response, so his lips remained sealed.

Upon approaching the art station, eyes wide with curiosity, Devyni, forgetting his manners for just a moment, reached, brushing just the very tips of several colored pencils. His tiny fingertips danced across the points, shifting the pencils very slightly within their holder.

Head snapping toward the noise, Hannibal quietly cleared his throat. The boy immediately placed his hand at his side. As if called to attention, Devyni spontaneously moved from the center and stood directly in front of his father. The boy's head lowered, eyes downcast, as if awaiting judgment.

Though he was immensely pleased by the result, Hannibal's voice was firm, engaging, "Though you were welcomed to explore, I do not recall Madame Director Defalco issuing an invitation to touch. Do you, my son?"

Devyni pinched his thumbs and index fingers, twisting them together as if playing, a game of The Itsy Bitsy Spider. His downcast eyes ticked upward. The boy's crystalline blue eyes meeting his father's intense maroon, he apologized, "No. No, I'm sorry, Daddy. I was not invited to touch."

Pleased by the boy's immediate approach and request for forgiveness, Hannibal tousled the boy's hair, comforting, "No need for contrition my son. It was simply a reminder, yes?"

Devyni hugged his father's leg, beaming, "Yes, thank you, Daddy. I'll pay better attention."

A turn of the boy's shoulder pulled his son's back against his leg. Hannibal's lush baritone soothed, "Of that I am certain."

The director marveled at the exchange. "What an exceptional listener and such a very polite response. May I ask, what is his vocabulary? How many words?"

Hannibal placed a proud hand on his son's shoulder, indicating, "My son, since you are the topic of the conversation, would you like to answer that question?"

Devyni's eyes brightened as he qualified, "I would, but, I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't know the answer."

Believing Hannibal had overreached his son's abilities, the director defended, "It's okay. We won't be expecting him to understand _everything_ his very first year."

Devyni raised his hand.

The director sat in the large rocking chair and bent low in order to be at eye-level with the boy.

"Are you raising your hand because you have a question? Did you learn that it's something we expect at school?"

Lowering his hand, he responded, "Yes. I read in a book that students are required to do so."

The director, assuming the boy misspoke, redirected, "Did you mean to say that your parents read a book to you about school?"

The boy shook his head widely, assuring, "No, ma'am, I meant exactly what I said. I can read quite well."

Devyni began to point to signs in the room, reading each with fluency.

Clapping her hands together, Director Defalco's eyes widened, both stating and questioning, "My goodness…my goodness! I can see you are an exceptional reader! Do you have a question for me?"

"Forgive me, Director Defalco, I love to read and can be distracted by it. I was wondering. You asked that I tell you how many words I know. Can you explain to me how I can count that which is infinite?"

The director's deeply furrowed eyebrows reflected, confusion as she questioned,

"Infinite? What do you mean? What is infinite?"

The boy explained politely, "You asked how many words I know. My answer, as I am learning more each and every day, is that my knowledge of vocabulary is infinite. It will only become finite when I am no longer alive, therefore I am unable to answer your question with any accuracy."

She edged closer, questioning, "Have you added any vocabulary during your visit so far today?"

Devyni moved closer, tracing his finger within the scrollwork of the rocker's arm.

His voice bubbled his enthusiasm, explaining gleefully, "Oh, yes. I learned the word, sensorial. You used it when you spoke of the area where touch is encouraged. I have very good senses. I believe that I will enjoy that area very much."

Director Defalco leaned back in the chair, responding with a combination of shock and amazement, "He's…he's…exceptional, truly, truly an exceptional youngster. I've never encountered a boy, or a girl for that matter with as much presence of mind, ability to articulate with the knowledge to apply the information in such advanced…he's…it's overwhelming."

"Yeah. He caught me off-guard, too." Clarice beamed, "We're very proud of him. He's a great boy. He's not only bright, but he's very sweet and compassionate."

The director bowed in front of Devyni, gushing, "You are such a brilliant boy! What shall we do with you, Hannibal Junior?"

Taking exception, Hannibal interjected, "Forgive my correction, but my son is not a _junior_. He is ninth in his line to carry the name."

The director's face flushed.

"Don't worry, lots of people make that assumption." Clarice sought to soften the objection, adding cheerfully, "That's why we call him Dev. It's become kind of a nickname, I guess. It's short for Devyni- the number nine in Lithuanian."

The woman nodded. As if common knowledge, as she rubbed Devyni affectionately on his back, she reasoned, "Sure, it's absolutely understandable that you don't want this exceptional boy to be called _Hannibal_ in school."

Perhaps confused by the suggestion that his father's name might not be preferred, Devyni looked to his father for guidance. Hannibal brought a finger to his lips, immediately quieting the boy.

Internally, Hannibal, too, flinched at the suggestion, though outwardly he remained perfectly composed.

As the woman doted on Devyni, Hannibal tugged his wife to the side and whispered quietly, "Clarice? Has that been decided? In our home it is one thing to refer to the boy with a diminutive designation. _Is_ it your preference that he _not_ publicly carry my name?"

Wanting assurances, he watched his wife's eyes. Upon realization, she seemed genuinely upset, assuring, "No, that's not the way it's going down, H. Don't worry, let me handle it."

Unaware of the conversation, the director placed a hand on Devyni's shoulder. "Young man, would you come with me for a moment?"

She guided him to a station where tesserae filled a large bin. Tucked within were a series of cards that had geometric patterns printed on the stock. The director pulled out one of the cards, placing it within a slotted stand in front of Devyni. She pointed to the pattern.

"Do you see the shapes on the card? The forms they create?"

The boy, spellbound, nodded, "Yes. It's very pretty."

She nodded as well, agreeing, "Yes, it is. Can you use the shapes in the bin to create an exact copy of the pattern? You can build it on the table."

Young Hannibal looked to his father, "I _can_ do it, Daddy._ May_ I?"

Smiling that his son understood the nuance of using can and may, he responded, "Yes, you may do as you have been asked, my son."

Devyni withdrew the card from the holder, looked at the pattern and set the picture face down on the table. He then reached into the bin to withdraw the needed tesserae.

Reaching, the director moved to flip the card so Devyni could see the picture as he solved the problem.

Stepping forward, Hannibal lifted a hand, protesting, "This is a game we often play. He will not need to see the printed side any longer. He has seen it once. That is enough. Trust me, he will remember the pattern."

The now-relaxed woman disputed, "There were ten geometric shapes turned in a variety of positions in that particular pattern. It would be impossible for him to be successful unless he looks at the picture as he arranges the…"

"Done." Devyni's hands were raised in victory above his head, stating proudly, "I'm quite sure it's correct."

Shocked, she turned her head to see Devyni had finished arranging the pieces.

Proudly circling the table, Clarice chimed, "You can check, but I bet it's right. He's unbelievably good at that game. He beats me every time."

Flipping the card, the director looked back and forth several times to confirm correct placement. He'd made no mistakes.

Shocked, she gasped, "Oh, my…oh my…he's going to be far more advanced than the children in the younger group. The older group as well, academically."

Clarice watched as Devyni removed several cards and one by one, with no more than one quick glance, reconstructed each unique pattern, time and again, without mistake.

Questioning the director, she pursued, "What do you think? For obvious reasons, I'm not worrying academically. My husband, as you can see, works with him constantly, but I'm really focused on socialization. What's your professional opinion?"

The woman seemed to be mesmerized as Devyni repeated the process several times. When he'd completed each card in the packet, he scooped up the tesserae, placing each piece neatly back within the bin.

"I'm stunned…he's mazing…he's absolutely amazing."

"Well, we might consider putting him the three-year old class. His vocabulary alone makes him far too advanced for placement here with the one year olds."

"What do you think, H?"

Hannibal, hands stuffed in his trouser pocket, warned, "If I'm being honest, even among three-year olds, our son will find no equal."

The woman nodded.

"That is certainly true academically, but I think what we can offer your son, what he needs most, is playtime with peers. In this class most of the children, while bright, would be difficult for him to understand. They're using basic sentence structures and vocabulary. They'll offer nothing that could approach an appropriate level of social interaction."

Concerned, Clarice questioned, "But three year olds? Really? Won't they be much bigger? Do you think that's a good idea?"

Director Defalco considered, "Well, he's a tall boy for his age. If he were small it would be difficult for him to fit in. He will be a bit shorter, but not abnormally so. The three year old room would best suit his needs."

Clarice seemed skeptical, questioning with a cynical tone, "Do you think he'll be accepted with three year olds? _Really?"_

The woman nodded, assuring, "He's bright. He'll fit in. The children in that group are very well mannered. If you're interested, we can fill out the paperwork and get him started tomorrow. You'll simply have to decide what kind of personal information you want to share in the school directory."

Clarice didn't understand the statement, pursuing, "What do you mean? We'll share whatever information everyone else shares."

The woman turned from Devyni, hushing, "Are you certain? It isn't unusual for parents to include only the name of their child. You needn't include your _surname_. Devyni and a phone number would be sufficient for the listing."

Hannibal picked up on the undertones far before Clarice.

He probed, "Sufficient? And to whose needs were you referring?"

Now realizing there was a subtext, Clarice requested, "H? What are we talking about here?"

Hannibal leaned toward his wife, explaining, "She is wondering whether or not you want parents of the students with whom your son may wish to socialize to know he is the son of Hannibal Lecter."

Without realizing offense could be taken, the teacher chimed in, "Exactly! It isn't as if he has your husband's eyes or anything so it's not like anyone will know off-hand. If Clarice drops the boy off in the morning, or better even, isn't there an aunt? No one would know her. If his aunt brings him into the building, I'm sure Dev will have many friends. Only the teachers will know, but, I assure you, they will be discreet."

Responding, Clarice assured, "Discreet? Why would they need to be discreet? We don't mind if people call our house if they want to play with Dev."

Hannibal articulated, "Clarice, she is suggesting parents will not wish to call our home to arrange for play-dates if they are aware of his parentage."

Obviously taking extreme offense, Clarice declared, "We won't be calling him Devyni outside of our home, anymore. He's Hannibal. He is the first-born son of Count Hannibal Lecter the eighth. As a matter of fact, like my husband said earlier, my son is the ninth in his line to carry that name. With me and his father by his side, he'll carry it proudly, and anyone who doesn't like it can just kiss my…"

Interrupting planned profanity, Hannibal urged, "_Clarice…_thank you for you defense, but it is quite unnecessary. This isn't about either of us it is about our son. In order to increase his social success, let us be practical."

Clarice threaded her arm through his, "No, H…no."

The moment of intimacy caused the director to turn from them as if providing a measure of privacy.

Hannibal brushed a knuckle along her cheek.

"My name will be a burden for our son, Clarice. For now, let us agree it is a yoke he is far too young to bear."

Though he knew from her body language that she didn't agree, he understood she was conceding to his wishes the moment she placed her head on his chest.

His arms encircled her body. He whispered, "I love you as well, Clarice."

Holding his wife close, he turned to the director, instructing, "You may refer to my son in class and on the roster simply as Devyni. Additionally, you may place our home phone number and Clarice's cell phone number in your registry. How many parents would you say do not choose to put a surname in the directory?"

"As there are children of diplomats and politicians attending, more than 6O percent of families choose not to include their surnames."

"Thank you. We will do the same. To avoid becoming a distraction to your school, or for my son, either my wife or my aunt will bring the boy. I will, however, attend the first parent night and any extra-curricular activities, as I will not miss these milestones in my son's academic development. Hopefully, by the time it is discovered I am young Hannibal's father, he will have acquired numerous friends."

"Exactly! Once the parents see what a bright and engaging child your Devyni is, they'll love to have him over or meet you at the park for playtime."

"Or in our home," Clarice asserted.

She waved away the concern, asserting, "Of course. In your home…of course."

Home. _Our_ home. Pride swelled. A father's pride prodded him to consider whether his own father's heart had stirred equally at thoughts of him. On the day of his birth, years before the war, the man must have had hopes, aspirations for his progeny. Would he be proud of the man Hannibal had become?

The thought of his father was foreign. He was called son for so short a time and it had been a lifetime ago, a very solemn, very precious lifetime ago. But things were different now. His life was no longer a morgue. No longer a catacomb of memories past or debts owed. He was not son. He was Husband. He was Father, and whether or not, for now, the boy used his name, both on this day and in his life, love reigns…Love reigns.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	67. Chapter 67

**HANNIBAL THE CANNIBAL**

Hannibal sat with his son as the boy enjoyed his breakfast. Clarice was packing a backpack with all of the items Devyni's pre-school required as Lady Murasaki showered in preparation to accompany the boy to his first day.

His father watched as the boy ate.

"Are you enjoying your breakfast, Hannibal?"

"Oh, yes. I love this breakfast. It's one of my favorite things you make for me."

The boy scooped a bite from the plate. There were two homemade crepes filled with fresh fruit, carefully cut into bite-sized pieces. Though his vocabulary was exceptional and his capacity to reason extraordinary, Devyni was still mastering his fine motor skills. Spoons he commanded with growing ease, but forks were a different matter entirely.

Attempting to hide his amusement as his son very gingerly balanced section of berry-laden crepe on his fork, he questioned, "My son, do you remember when we spoke of Daddy having done things others believed were bad?"

"Yes, you told me about it and I listened very carefully. I remember it all."

He negotiated his lip, passed his teeth and into his mouth. Sweet victory. He smiled as he chewed.

Turning the boys' plate to make the food more accessible, Hannibal continued, "We discussed the many times when Mommy and Daddy helped one another, yes?"

Devyni chased a berry around the plate trapping it against a dollop of freshly whipped cream. He scooped, gathering both the cream and the berry. Holding the fork steadily, he paused.

"When Mommy was in the FBI? Yes. I talked to her about it. She showed me the scar where you took a bullet out of her."

He then began to lower his head to the fork. Hannibal placed two fingers on his son's forehead, very gently interrupting the process. Now understanding the fork needed to be lifted, not the head lowered, he corrected his actions, apologizing, "Sorry, Daddy."

"Not to worry. You are doing your best and that is all I shall ever ask of you. Today, you will be with other children. It is my hope you will make many friends."

"Yes. I hope so, too. I want to have lots of friends to play with."

Concentration simmered as he lifted the fork, balancing his food while taking care not to lower his head.

Hannibal scooted his chair to the side. He and the boy were now shoulder to shoulder. His voice lowered, he explained, "I would like to prepare you for an eventuality. In this area, I am very well known, as are every one of the things I have done. You may hear talk of them. If you do, will you come to me and tell me?"

"Yes. I'll tell you everything."

"And you won't be frightened to speak to me. No matter what you hear?"

"I could never be frightened of you, Daddy. I love you very much."

Hannibal took a deep breath. Not because he was uncertain. More because he was.

"Do you know what a nickname is?"

The boy's clear blue eyes looked up. He spoke with certainty, "Yes. My name is Hannibal but Mommy likes to call me Devyni. It's not my name, but she uses it as a way to show me that even though my name is the same as yours, I'm special and she loves me."

Hannibal placed a napkin on his son's lap. He was decided. Now was the time.

"I have many nicknames as well."

The boy, preoccupied by his meal, answered quickly, "Yes, I call you Daddy and Mommy calls you H. She loves you."

Hannibal tapped lightly on the table to garner his son's attention.

When is son looked up, Hannibal explained, "As I love her. I have been called other names as well. Though your mother uses H with affection, the other names were not at all affectionate. You may hear some of them. One especially. If you are to hear it, I would prefer you hear it from me rather than a stranger who means to use it to hurt you."

The boy's eyes widened. "What name?"

Hannibal's eyes darkened.

"Hannibal the Cannibal."

The boy's eyes danced. The rhyme seemed to please him. He repeated it several times before asking, "_Cannibal?_ Did they use it because it rhymes with _Hannibal_?"

He watched for a reaction, responding, "Partly, that it rhymed was coincidental. Mostly, because it is true."

Seeming more concerned with the breakfast than the information he was receiving, the boy questioned half-heartedly, "What is a cannibal?"

Careful to remove any emotion from his tone, Hannibal explained, "It is an animal that consumes its own species."

Devyni looked up. Curiosity simmered. "You told me people are animals."

Still Hannibal watched. Still the boy remained neutral.

Hannibal simply continued,"Yes."

Devyni poked a berry with a tine of his fork. "Are you a cannibal?"

"Yes, Hannibal. I am."

The boy didn't seem disturbed.

_He is young. The implications may elude him. We shall see..._

The boy's eyebrows knitted together. He'd come to a question, seeking, "Species? Is our species people?"

_Let us see how far your curiosity will take us, my son._

"Simply put, yes. That is our species."

Waiting to swallow, Hannibal's eyes continually shifted as if a series of questions might be found on the ceiling.

The boy considered aloud, "If a cannibal eats its own species, and you are a cannibal, does that mean you have eaten people?"

"We do not kill the animals we eat."

Truth. Only truth. Hannibal inhaled deeply and held the breath. He hadn't discussed this with Clarice, but he was certain it was the right thing to do. He said simply, "Not all, but parts of them, yes. Just like we eat parts of beef or pork. Many cultures do so, though it is not common here."

The questions and responses were quicker now. The boy had a series of questions at the ready.

"No. Not normally. We purchase cuts of meat at the butcher's shop."

The counter, quicker still, "You cannot buy cuts of people meat at a butcher's shop."

"No. No you cannot. It is not legal to sell or purchase human body parts."

"Who killed the people you ate?"

"I did."

The boy paused. "Were they bad?"

"Bad is a subjective word, but in my estimation, yes. I killed those who have harmed me or attempted to do injury to those I love."

The boy's thoughts shifted. He began to shift his focus from his father to his mother.

"Mommy had to kill bad people when she was in the FBI."

"Yes."

"Did she eat part of them?"

"No, Mommy did not."

"Why?"

"Because she is not a cannibal."

"You cook for me."

_Ah, we have come to it. My brilliant boy!_

"Yes."

The boy took several large bites. He chewed and swallowed, before asking, "Have I ever eaten my own species?"

Hannibal's voice was firm. The answer, unequivocal.

"No. You have not and you will not."

"Because I am not a cannibal?"

"Yes. It is because you are not. Neither is anyone else in the family. Have no fear. It isn't something that I will ever ask of you. It was forced upon me as a child. I would not do the same to you. It has become a part of my life, but it isn't something to which you will ever be exposed."

Seeing the boy had finished his breakfast, Hannibal removed the plate. He walked to the kitchen, placed the dish in the sink. He returned with a warm washcloth and began to clean his son's face.

Devyni waited for his father to clean his mouth, then questioned, "Would you kill someone if they tried to hurt me?"

Hannibal folded the cloth and set it on the table. He then pushed the milk-filled cup toward his son. The boy drank eagerly.

"Yes."

Setting the cup down, Devyni confirmed, "You would do anything for me and Mommy and Auntie, wouldn't you, Daddy."

"Anything, my son."

_You mother will not be pleased if you don't understand. __What will you take from this?_

The boy reached for his father's arm. He placed his hand over his father's hand. Looking him directly in the eyes, Devyni inquired, "If someone calls you Hannibal the Cannibal, how should I respond?"

"You simply say, yes, I know. My father told me all about it." Hannibal leaned closer and placed his hand over his son's tiny star-shaped hand. "Knowledge is power, Hannibal. They cannot use it against you or hurt you by it because it isn't a secret, nor is it something of which I am ashamed. You should not be ashamed of it, either."

The boy smiled. "I'm not ashamed of anything you've done, Daddy. You only do things because you think they're right. Not everyone will agree."

"No. Not everyone will agree. We will stand up to those who judge our family. We love each other and that is all that matters, yes?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Clarice entered the room carrying a small backpack, Lady Murasaki followed.

"Did you make him a lunch, H? He's got to leave soon."

"Yes. It is in the refrigerator."

She ripped at the handle, discovered the lunch and stuffed it quickly into the backpack. Reaching a hand out to the boy, Clarice urged, "Okay, let's go. We don't want to be late on our first day."

Devyni squirmed in his seat, bubbling with anticipation, he proclaimed, "No, I want to be on time. I don't want my new friends to think I'm not a good student."

Hannibal smiled. New friends. Let us hope.

* * *

Hannibal was supportive, but not overly attentive as his son left for school. He wished the boy a productive, enjoyable day, kissed his head and ascended the steps to the home. Devyni sat beside his aunt, preoccupied with the contents of his backpack. He didn't seem to be at all effected by fact that his father wouldn't be joining him, so Hannibal thought it best to make the farewell brief.

Clarice bolted down the stairs almost knocking Hannibal from the landing.

"Forget something, my Love?"

"Crap yeah! My baseball hat." She tugged at the brim until her eyes barely showed, continuing, "Christ knows, I don't want to stick out like a sore thumb."

"You are certain to be the belle of the ball."

"Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H."

"Heaven forbid, Clarice…heaven forbid."

Threading her arm through his, she tugged, urging, "You know what? Screw what anyone thinks, H. You should come with us. It's his first day!"

Hannibal kissed the top of her head.

"Do you think I spare one moment or expend any energy considering the thoughts of others, Clarice?" Hannibal waved away the concern. "I am simply being practical. I've prepared the boy as best I can. I don't wish to distract."

She started down the steps.

"Okay, I get it. You probably wanted to market anyway."

His stomach sank.

"Market?"

Her hand was on the door now. Looking over the roof, she answered as if she should understand.

"Yeah, market. You know…for tonight."

Hannibal's head angled, questioning, "_Tonight_, Clarice? Are there plans of which I am unaware?"

She flopped her arms across the roof of the car. Looking up at Hannibal, she face-palmed, gasping, "Oh, crap! Did I forget to tell you…uh, I mean ask you?"

Hannibal braced himself.

_Not Logan…not Logan. _

"Ardelia wants to talk about the wedding and Logan wants…well, you know what Logan wants."

She must have noticed the look he didn't bother to hide. She hedged, "H, I know it's short notice. I know he tries your patience, but…for me?"

Knowing he would deny her nothing, his shoulders sank.

"For you, dear Clarice, anything."

She blew a kiss across her palm and waved.

"Thanks, H. I know it's a lot to ask. He can be so…"

"It's fine, Clarice. Logan has earned his place in our family."

"You always know exactly the right thing to say."

"One tries, my Love."

Clarice opened the door to check the restraints on Devyni's car seat. As the boy watched his mother's actions, he spoke plainly, "Did you ever call Daddy, Hannibal the Cannibal, or did you always call him, H?"

Clarice turned, shocked, and stared at her husband.

"H? _What did you do?_"

"I spoke the truth, Clarice. If my son is to know _of_ me, he will know _from_ me."

* * *

Hannibal specifically chose a meal that would require him to be in and out of the kitchen on a regular basis. Moving between the dining room and the kitchen he'd picked up on bits and pieces of the conversations, but hadn't focused too intently. He watched his son's excitement, as they sat down with the dessert Ardelia baked, listening to the events of the day.

"There is a boy in my class that is very nice. I may ask him if we can play outside of school, if that's okay."

Clarice set a piece of cake in front of Devyni.

"Sure, what's his name?"

Devyni lifted his fork. His eyes sparkled.

"His name is Brian. He's very funny."

Hannibal's eyes shifted. "_Funny?_ In what way is he funny?"

The boy slipped the fork beneath the cake, carefully balancing a morsel.

"He makes silly faces when the teacher isn't looking."

Logan laughed. "Hah! I did that too. No new games, I guess. Only new players!"

Ignoring Logan, though it rankled, Hannibal looked at his wife, then to his son before questioning, "Do you think that is appropriate?"

Devyni's smile faded quickly.

"No…no, Daddy. It isn't."

Though he could see his son's disappointment, unconcerned with the emotion, Hannibal continued, "Do you think he is an appropriate choice for a playmate?"

The boy set the cake-filled fork on his plate. "No. He isn't."

Seeking to support her husband, Clarice joined, "I don't want you picking out the bad kids and trying to be their friend, Dev."

Devyni whispered under his breath, "Daddy said bad is a subjective term."

Hannibal countered quickly, "Yes, it is subjective but you are informed enough to make an accurate assessment. If you lay down with a dog, you will pick up its fleas. Do not seek the friendship of one who is not concerned with his education."

Logan lifted the glass of milk in front of him to wash down the huge piece of cake is jaw was attempting to wrangle. Pausing mid-lift, without thinking, he blurted, "Education? It's not Harvard. He's only one!"

Hannibal glared.

Logan regrouped, back-tracking, "Yeah, little man. You don't want to hang around with the class clown. They turn out like me. You want to choose friends who are very smart. Just like you."

Lady Murasaki spoke quietly, "Or someone who is very kind."

Most likely in an effort to cover Logan's misstep, Ardelia rejoined, "Exactly! They don't have to be the smartest. Just a sweet, polite, well-mannered boy."

Devyni searched the air in front of him, as if reading a class roster. When he'd come to a choice, he spoke, "There is a boy name Quentin who is very polite, but I don't know if he'll want to play with me."

Clarice touched her son's arm. He hadn't been eating. She guided his fork to gather a piece of the cake, distracting, "Why is that?"

Watching the cake, he mumbled, "I don't know…he just sits alone. No one talks with him."

Sitting back in his seat appearing quite regal, Hannibal proclaimed, "Tomorrow when you go to school, speak to Quentin. It might be that he is very shy but would love a friend with whom he can spend time."

The boy nodded, agreeing, "That's a good idea. I think I will like Quentin as a friend. He seems very pleasant."

Devyni sat very quietly for a moment. He rested his head on his palm. His eyes closed.

Inhaling deeply to test the presence of stress hormones, Hannibal didn't sense concern. It was obvious the boy was considering something.

The adults watched him for a time, though none drew attention. Finally, he lifted his head, blurting out, "Aside from my father, are there any other cannibals here tonight."

HLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLLHLHLHLLH

Hannibal stood in the kitchen scraping the dishes and loading the dishwasher. Logan came in with an armful of plates.

"I hope you don't mind me coming in. The ladies are talking wedding."

"Not at all."

"Sorry about getting involved with the whole school conversation."

"No need for apologies, Logan. Your heart was in the right place."

Logan swiped his finger along a plate gathering frosting on the tip of his finger. Placing his finger within his mouth, he pulled it out with a pop.

"So, that whole cannibal thing?"

Hannibal did not look up. He simply stacked the dishes.

"Yes?"

Logan leaned over to get Hannibal's attention.

"Did I miss something, or did you basically just out yourself?"

"Outing implies I was in hiding. I was not."

"True…true. I have to say, I was shocked."

"Were you?" Hannibal didn't even blink. He was fully unconcerned.

Logan shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I just wanted to say I really respect you…I don't know, I mean…if it was me, I don't know if I'd have the balls, no disrespect, to own up to my past like that."

"It isn't my past. It is who I am. My son has the right to know."

"I guess…it's just…well…you man up to things. No matter what, you do what's right. Before we'd met, I always thought that about you, but I wasn't sure. Now that I know you..."

"Now that you know me _what_, Logan?"

He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, gushing, "Most, for lack of a better word, heroes, turn out to be a big bust, but you…you're awesome. You're just awesome."

Hannibal smiled. "It is kind of you to say. Thank you."

Clarice poked her head into the kitchen.

"You just about done here, H?"

Hannibal closed the dishwasher and activated it. He noticed Clarice seeded to be leaning, needing support. His nostrils flared. Her scent was changing.

"Yes. Why?"

She curled a hand under her belly.

"Have you touched base with Lora?"

"Yes. She was out of town as well, but arrived just this afternoon. Clarice?"

"It might be nothing."

Unleashing his full enthusiasm, Logan began flapping his hands wildly.

"What might be nothing? What? _Is it baby time? Is it baby time?"_

Another contraction practically dropped Clarice to her knees.

"Oh…Yeah…yeah…oh, god…that's definitely not nothing…"

Logan hugged Clarice, proclaiming, "Baby time! _Aww yeah_!"

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	68. Chapter 68

**HANNIBAL'S ANGEL**

Another pain surged. This time Clarice's knees buckled so quickly Logan was forced to jump forward to catch her in his arms.

"_Clarice!_"

Placing his palms on the marble, Hannibal vaulted over the countertop, his eyes flashing so fiercely it caused Logan to flinch. He was at his wife's side in the blink of an eye.

Holding Clarice against his body in a modified bridal carry, Logan shook with fear. "You saw it, didn't you?" he explained quickly, "I swear to god I'm not being inappropriate, Doc…she collapsed. You saw it, right? She totally collapsed."

"Yes. Thank you, Logan. I saw everything."

"Sorry…that pain just hit me like a ton of bricks." Clarice patted Logan's shoulder. "You can put me down. I'm okay. It was just a contraction."

Logan didn't move.

"Nope. Not putting you down unless the big guy tells me to."

His eyes shifted to Hannibal. "What do you think, Doc. Can she walk or should I carry her?"

Breathing deeply to assess his wife's stress, Hannibal's blood-red eyes glittered with anxiety.

"A fall would not be safe. You must be certain, Clarice."

She reached for Hannibal's shoulder and nodded. "H…I'm okay. I can walk. The contraction passed…I think I can walk."

His fists tightened at his side. His voice hardened reflecting concern as he pressed, "You _think_ you can walk or _can _walk, which is it, Clarice? Now is not the time to take chances."

Nodding her head, she asserted, "I can, H. I can."

Hannibal's eyes narrowed as he considered the consequences of the decision. When he'd come to a determination he agreed with reservation, "Very well, but no second chances, Clarice. You weaken and either Logan or I will carry you to the birthing suite."

"No, no chances, H." Patting Logan's shoulder, she pointed to the ground. "Okay, Hercules. You can put me down. I'm good."

"You sure, Doc? She's really light. Baby and all, I can totally carry her. It's no trouble."

"I'm certain, Logan. You may allow her to walk, but keep a close eye and remain by her side all the way to the birthing suite."

"Which door is it?"

"Clarice will direct you. I would escort you, but I must call a friend to help with the labor."

"Calling a friend to help?"

Still holding Clarice, Logan bounced on his feet. Growing impatient she smacked a palm on his chest and pointed to the ground.

"Down! I'm not Cleopatra. I can walk."

"Oh, sorry." Setting Clarice lightly on her feet, Logan's body quaked with excitement, questioning, "He's said he's calling a friend, Clarice. Is _Barney_ is coming over?"

"Barney? Was there a change of plans I don't know about, H?"

Hannibal flipped the phone within his hand. Not needing to look up the phone number, he added before dialing, "No, Clarice. No change of plans. The friend of whom I speak is not Barney. As much as I trust him, I do not wish to put Barney in a compromising position by asking him to assist with such a personal situation."

Disappointment lowered Logan's voice. No longer animated, he sought, "Oh…okay. Who's coming over, then?"

Becoming tired of the exchange, dropping his chin to his chest, Hannibal took a deep breath. As the air filled his lungs, his head rose from his chest like a cobra from a basket. Conscious to control the shudder of irritation rolling through his shoulders, he simply stated, "I shall be calling Lora."

Watching his body language and likely sensing her husband's frustration, leaning on Logan, Clarice pushed her friend toward the doorway, urging, "Let's go, Logan. That contraction was a bitch and I don't know how much time I have between each one."

She then looked over her shoulder toward her husband, petitioning, "Ask her to hurry, H…this feels like it's moving much faster with this baby than it did with Dev."

Turning the handset over, Hannibal began punching the numbers on the keypad, reassuring, "That isn't unusual, Clarice. From what I've been able to tell, our daughter isn't as large as young Hannibal. It is my hope that your experience will not be as difficult."

Being shoved through the door, Logan skidded his feet along the tiled floor, asking, "Lora? Who's Lora?"

Listening to the ringing as he waited for an answer, Hannibal rolled his eyes. Exasperated at the thought of having to explain himself to Logan, he attempted to mask his irritation behind a polite façade. Hannibal detailed, "Not that I need your clearance, but she is the nurse who helped with Devyni. She has agreed to lend a hand once more, but I do need to call, therefore, if it isn't too much trouble, would you mind escorting Clarice? Perhaps Ardelia can help to make her comfortable and sit with her while I tend to the arrangements."

"Sure, Doc, you can count on us." Turning to leave, he spoke quietly, "Don't worry, Clarice. If I have to carry you I'll be really careful. I don't want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already are."

"Thanks, but I'm sure that's not going to be necessary."

Logan whispered, "You're gonna be fine. In no time at all you'll be holding another beautiful baby. You and you Doc make the best babies. This one will be really special. I can't wait to see her."

Clarice spoke through gritted teeth as another contraction bloomed.

"Thanks…Logan…thanks."

* * *

Lora arrived at the Lecter home in fifteen minutes. Comfortable, she tossed her purse on a chair. Turning to Lady Murasaki, she questioned, "Is the birthing suite prepped?"

Elegant and composed, Lady Murasaki nodded, assuring, "Very nearly. Hannibal is…"

Before the woman could finish her response, Logan marched past with his massive arms wrapped around two large cardboard boxes, one balanced on each shoulder pressing against his ears effectively bookending his head.

His ears covered, he spoke much louder than normal, booming, "I've got the sterile water here and Ardelia's sitting with Clarice. We're almost done."

Lora removed set a large bag on the same chair she'd placed her purse.

"Doctor Lecter?"

Logan continued marching past, shouting back, "He's scrubbing up. Just in case."

The boyish man bounded up the stairs taking two at a time without appearing strained by the weight. He moved with such ease and athleticism the boxes might have seemed empty except for the sloshing of the liquid coming from the bottles tucked inside.

Watching as Logan disappeared up the flight of stairs, concerned, Devyni questioned, "In case what? What is happening? Where is my Mommy?"

Lady Murasaki placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, explaining, "Your mother is having your baby brother or sister. In the event there is an emergency during the birth, your father wants to be well prepared. There is no need to worry. Your father is an excellent doctor. With nurse Lora here to help, everything will go smoothly."

Lora extended her hand, "You are Lady Murasaki?"

"Yes," Lady Murasaki extended her hand, clasping Lora's to return the handshake, informing, "I am Hannibal's aunt."

"I have heard quite a lot about you. I'm very pleased to meet you."

"You as well."

"I'm pleased, too!"

At the sound of the young voice, Lora turned quickly. Seeing Devyni emerging from behind his great-aunt, she bowed at her waist, placing her hands on her knees.

"Hello, young man. What is your name?"

His hands clasped in front of his body, he responded, "My name is Hannibal."

She smiled widely, exclaiming, "It is? You must have just had a birthday!"

The boy beamed.

"Yes. I did. How did you know?"

"My name is Lora. I was with your parents on April twenty-sixth of last year when you were born. I helped your father deliver you. You came into the world at twelve-thirty one a.m."

Devyni extended his hand.

"Yes. That is when I was born. It is good to see you again. Forgive me for not remembering, though I have exceptional retention, my birth is something of which I have no clear recollection."

Lora tousled the boy's hair, laughing, "No, I didn't expect you would. Your mother is right. You really are a brilliant little man, and so very polite!"

Hannibal, eyes sparkling at the compliment, responded politely, "My parents will be pleased by your approval. My father especially, he abhors rude behavior. On his behalf, I thank you very much for the compliment."

She nodded, laughing, "Yes…yes he does, and you're quite welcome. I'll be sure to tell him what a fine young gentleman he's raising." Lora opened the large tote bag she was carrying and withdrew a brightly decorated bag. With a wide smile, she offered the gift.

"Though it is a little late, this is for you. Happy Birthday, Hannibal."

Eyes wide, he grasped for the handles, reaching into the bag to pull out a brightly colored object. He gushed, "Oh! Is this a _microscope_?"

"Yes. It's made for children a few years older than you, but I hear you are quite the brilliant boy! I'm sure you will make good use of it. It talks."

"Really? That's very exciting! Thank you."

Bursting into the dining room, Ardelia, out of breath from running the entire way, rushed in, exclaiming, "Hi, are you Lora?"

"Yes. Is everything ready for us to welcome another Lecter into the world?"

Leaning on the table to catch her breath, Ardelia hurried, "Almost. Hannibal needs a few things at the pharmacy and Clarice will need some sanitary products post-delivery, but we've gotten everything organized. He needs a hand with this."

She thrust a partially crumpled paper into Lora's hands: a list scrawled in Hannibal's immaculate copperplate.

"Can you call in those prescriptions before you go to the suite? We can pick them up when we go to get the rest of the items Clarice will need."

She accepted the list and smoothing the paper, looked it over quickly. "Yes, of course." She turned to Devyni, preparing, "Maybe you can play with your new microscope while your daddy and I are busy helping mommy have your baby brother or sister."

Holding the handles of the bag, he bounced on the balls of his feet, exclaiming, "Yes, I'd love that!"

Lora returned to Ardelia.

"Aside from the items on the list, is everything at the ready?"

"I don't know if _everything_ is ready, but Hannibal says Clarice sure as hell is. He said to tell you she's one hundred percent effaced and just under 10 centimeters."

"That's pushing time!" Lora dashed up the stairs, shouting over her shoulder, "We'll be welcoming a baby before you get back from the store!"

* * *

Logan came bounding down the stairs, exclaiming with the same level of excitement as Devyni, "Did I hear someone say the word, microscope? Little dude, if you got a new microscope, can I play, too?"

Ardelia grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back like a puppy snatched by the collar.

"No-the-hell-you-can't play with that boy's microscope. You're a grown-ass man."

"I know I'm grown._ Jesus_…I just want to play with the little guy." Hanging his head, clearly disappointed, he urged, "Oh, come on! His father is busy and I never _had_ one of those. _It looks so cool!"_

Ardelia wasn't taking no for an answer, demanding, "You're going with me to the pharmacy, Logan. Clarice wasn't prepared to have the baby tonight, so we need to pick up a few things. Just deal with it."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets he kicked at the Persian rug. Sounding like a disappointed little boy, he complained, "But I don'tfeel like going to the pharmacy. What do you need there anyway?"

"She needs what she doesn't have in this house yet and can't do without once she has that baby!" She waved her left hand wagging the finger with her engagement ring in front of his face like a puppy's tail, proclaiming, "You see this!"

He looked up. "What? The ring?"

"Yeah, the ring. You know what it means, right?"

Answering as if it was something he had been forced to repeat a hundred times a day, chanting in a monotone voice, he droned, "That ring means I go where you go with no complaints."

Ardelia rubbed his back, urging, "That's right handsome, so lets get to stepping."

Most likely believing a different approach might prove successful, flirting shamelessly, Logan wrapped his arms around Ardelia. Rocking her back and forth, he continually kissed the top of her head as he offered, "Come on, she's your best friend and she loves you. You don't need me. Not really. Just go pick up…whatever."

"You're right. I am Clarice's friend…" Ardelia flirted in return, teasing, "…but aren't you _Hannibal's_ friend? What happened to the Bro-code?"

Appearing more distracted by the moment than she, Logan agreed, "This isn't Bro-code 'cuz there's chick stuff on the list and much as I love you, Dee, I'm not going down that _feminine_ aisle. I can't do it. I just can't. My face turns pinker than the tampon boxes on the shelves."

Tugging on Logan's pant leg, his eyes wide with innocence, Devyni inquired, "What's a tampon?"

Lady Murasaki held a finger to her lips, advising, "You aren't to worry about things that do not concern you. It isn't something you need to know."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Ardelia slapped his shoulder.

"Now look what you started! Jesus, Logan! Why do you have to be such a freaking baby?"

Logan grumbled, "I'm not being a baby. It's just_ embarrassing!"_

Lady Murasaki very quietly raised a hand, offering, "Ardelia, I'll be more than happy to accompany you. Logan can sit with young Hannibal while we pick up what Clarice needs. I have been placed on Hannibal's credit card account so if I'm with you, payment will be easier."

Standing firm, Ardelia didn't appear as if she would concede.

"Logan can just deal with it. Hannibal needs help. He's his friend. He'll help."

"It is true that Clarice wasn't fully prepared therefore Hannibal does need help. Perhaps Logan's talents might be better used entertaining Devyni while we pick up the supplies. I doubt my nephew wants a man, no matter how good a friend, to shop for his wife's medical and sanitary needs. Young Hannibal does enjoy the way Logan plays with him. It's very different than the way his father plays."

"Yeah…I've got talents."

"Okay. We'll be gone less than an hour. See if your talents can keep you out of trouble for five minutes."

Logan high-fived Devyni.

Talents. Indeed.

* * *

Lora entered the room to a flurry of activity. Without speaking, she busied herself prepping the small incubator and readying the equipment needed post-birth.

Hannibal had positioned himself between the stirrups of the birthing bed. Between contractions he was speaking very softy to his wife. He continually stroked her inner thighs, wide sweeping motions from knees to hips and back again.

"You are progressing well, my Love. Not long and you will be holding our daughter in your arms."

Uncomfortable, Clarice shifted on the bed.

"It had better be a little girl with all your talk. The doctor in Argentina offered, so why didn't you just let me get an ultrasound? Then we'd be sure."

"I am certain."

Not knowing whether it was to fill her needs or his, Hannibal moved to his wife's side. Without a word, Lora handed him a neatly folded washcloth. He used the cool cloth to wipe the perspiration beading at Clarice's forehead. Hoping to calm her, he kissed her gently.

"Your weight gain and the child's growth remained steady, Clarice. All blood tests were well within normal limits. I saw no need to perform needless testing."

Clarice reached her right arm out to her husband placing her palm on the center of his chest. She moved it slightly from side to side, searching.

_She is seeking my heartbeat. _

Bending low, he hushed in her ear, "My love, you stir me like no other."

Sliding her hand up his chest, she skimmed the palm over his collarbone, slipping it over the smooth muscles of his neck until finally coming to rest on his face. She cupped his cheek and gently stroked a thumb over the ridge of his zygomatic bone.

Her eyes closed.

"H, the baby is two weeks early. We don't even have a name yet."

He covered her hand with his.

"Yes we have." The left hand holding hers, he placed his right hand on her abdomen. Their child was within. He smoothed his palm in wide circles. Removing her hand from his face, he once more placed it over his heart. Bowing at the waist he pecked several tender kisses on her belly.

Speaking to the child within, he whispered, "We will see you soon, my little angel. Mommy will hold you tightly in her arms and I will have to fight for a moment's attention from either of you."

Clarice's body relaxed for a moment. Breathing deeply, she commented, "As if you'll ever put her down."

Smiling, Lora busied herself restocking swabs and occasionally ran a cloth over either Clarice or Hannibal's forehead as needed. Moving quietly in the background she filled needs without being asked and provided comfort as needed.

Suddenly Clarice's body arched upward.

"Oh god…H…oh…god…this one is…bad…"

Her face tensing, Clarice gripped his shirt. Hannibal immediately returned to his position to monitor the progress. Lora rushed to his side and held a pair of surgical gloves open. He stuffed his hands quickly within. Lora then stood at his side, handing him sterile pads. Hannibal swabbed the area to improve his view.

"We will push with the next contraction, Clarice."

"No…No, H…You haven't… given me any…drugs…H…I don't…want to ….push without…anything. Last time…"

Hannibal checked the status of her perineum to gauge the necessity of an episiotomy. "This isn't the last time, my Love. The child's head is beginning to crown."

Clarice's breathing became harsh, huffing as the contractions gripped her body. "It's killing me H…what happened to the epidural…that makes it…so much…easier."

Hannibal turned toward Lora. His eyes asked the question he didn't bother to voice. She shook her head in agreement with him. An episiotomy didn't seem necessary.

Lora's voice was soft, explaining, "Clarice, you are in the final stages of delivery. If Hannibal administers an epidural it will slow the process. You are one or two pushes away from meeting your daughter.

Writhing on the bed, Clarice's eyes crushed closed as she bit her bottom lip. Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

Hannibal was forced to look away. His own eyes darkened. His pain was of no consequence to him, but seeing Clarice distressed? That was another matter entirely. He found he had to redirect his own emotions. He compartmentalized the anxiety. Husband was pushed aside. Doctor was needed.

His lush baritone soothed, "You can do this. Push the pain aside. Imagine holding your baby…our beautiful baby, in your arms."

Breath puffing through pursed lips, she focused, "Okay…okay…"

Hannibal pressed on the muscle group she needed to focus on.

"Here, push from here. Now, Clarice…push…don't strain…push…"

Bearing down, Clarice gripped the sheets. Twisting them within her fists her body trembled from the pressure. Her stress hormones flooded his nostrils. Her squashed whimpers filled his ears. Hearing her pain, Hannibal was glad he could no longer see her face. His senses informed him that she was agonized, but she made little noise and no complaint.

_So brave...you are my warrior…my lioness. It is you I hold above all._

"One more, she's here, my Love…one more and she's here."

A movement. A shift and his baby's head pressed forward, emerging from within his wife's precious body.

Hannibal's heart thumped wildly.

"Hello, my little angel. Daddy has you. Not to worry."

Holding his child gently by the head and neck, Hannibal rotated slightly to allow for the shoulders to move into position.

"You're doing so well, my Love…One more push to allow for the shoulders and I shall deliver our baby and place her in your arms. Can you do this, Clarice? Just one more push?"

"Yes…I'm okay…I can…I can…"

"Very well, Clarice. Now! Push!"

A low groan poured from her body as the child slipped from its bounds.

The agonizing sound pierced Hannibal ears. His wife's pain filled the room, then silence.

Hannibal looked down. His child was in his hands.

Moving quickly, Lora helped Hannibal swaddle the baby. He then placed the child in his wife's arms. Wrapping his own arms around Clarice and their child, Hannibal placed several tender kisses on her lips and face. His eyes heated but he made no effort to shield his emotions from his wife. She reached up to capture the tear tracking down his cheek.

"She is lovely, Clarice…thank you."

"I named Devyni. It's your turn. What is her name, H?"

"Because she is our little angel, Angelina Simonetta Lecter."

"Simonetta? Your mother's name?"

"Yes, but if you would rather not…"

"No, I love it…I love it, H and I love you."

No cries came from the child. She snuggled against her mother as her father stroked a warm cloth to clean the birth fluids from her head and face. The cleaning revealed soft blonde curls. The baby opened her eyes. Ruby red sparkled like gemstones.

Clarice gasped, "Oh…H…oh my god, look! She has your eyes. Thank god one of our babies got your eyes."

"Yes, my Love. She has my eyes and you have my heart."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	69. Chapter 69

**ALWAYS…ALWAYS.**

Having delivered the placenta, Hannibal used a basin filled with mild soap and warm water and using large sterile pads lovingly cleaned his wife while Lora tended to the baby's needs.

Head back, eyes closed, Clarice rested allowing her husband to take his time and make certain she was well cared for. Her legs fell apart, relaxed and comfortable. There was no shame or modesty between them. Only love and care.

After several minutes passed with Hannibal humming softly as he cleansed, she looked down along her body. Clearing her throat, she questioned, "You're taking an awfully long time, H

Leaning forward he reached for a towel. Before sitting on the stool once more, he placed several chaste kissed on her inner thigh. Seated once more, he began humming softly, wiping her dry with gentle swipes of the plush towel.

Bringing her legs together slightly, Clarice giggled, "Are you having a party down there or what?"

Chuckling, he responded without interruption, "Is there a reason it cannot be both?"

She laughed, "No, I guess not, but maybe you can move it along?"

"I'm being extremely professional, Clarice." He turned to nurse Lora, now measuring and weighing the baby, requesting, "Am I not, Lora?"

She smiled, assuring playfully, "Oh, absolutely professional. Best practices, for sure."

"You two are becoming partners in crime, _for sure_. So what's next?"

Hannibal stood, outlining, "Next I help you into clean clothing and bring you to our bedroom. You will be far more comfortable and your guests will have more room to visit."

"Visit? Who the hell is going to…_oh, god_…I forgot we had company!"

"Did you, my Love…" with a wry grin, Hannibal teased, "Lord knows I haven't."

Clarice craned her neck, reaching for the kiss he was eager to provide. The moment their lips parted, she ran her palm along his cheek.

"Sorry H. I shouldn't have pushed you to entertain before we'd gotten the house ready for the baby. You had to scramble, and I know that's not your style. It was a close call."

Hannibal scooped his wife up into his arms and began carrying her to their bedroom. As he walked through their home, he lowered his head on occasion to place tender kisses on her face.

"No, not my style perhaps, but it is something to which I've grown accustomed over the years. One never knows when one has to scramble. I've had my share of…_close calls, _for sure_."_

"Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H."

"Heaven forbid, Clarice…heaven forbid."

Lora followed the pair at a respectful distance. She carried the baby and placed her in the cradle in the Lecter's bedroom until Clarice was changed and settled in bed.

As Hannibal finished dressing Clarice, Lora lifted the baby once more from the cradle and placed her in her mother's arms.

She offered, "Maybe we should bring young Hannibal in to meet his sister before Logan and Ardelia. The boy should have a little time to bond with her before this becomes about everyone else. Agreed?"

Hannibal nodded. "Yes. Agreed."

* * *

Standing beside Lora, Devyni stood at the doorway and leaned around the frame. Peering in, he waited.

"Excuse me, Daddy. May I come in, please?"

Hannibal looked up. "Yes, my son. You may. Come in and meet your sister."

The boy walked so cautiously it appeared as if he might be balancing on the points of pins. His eyes widened with every step.

Sensing heightened anxiety coming from the boy, seeking to relax his son, Hannibal slipped his hands beneath the boy's arms and scooped him from his feet. He then shifted the wider palm of his left hand to center on his son's chest. With the other hand he supported the boy at his thighs.

Soaring Devyni toward his mother, he proclaimed as he floated his son through the sky, "Here comes Super-brother!"

As he flew him across the room, Hannibal made whooshing sounds as if the boy were indeed flying. Devyni giggled as his father delivered him to his mother's side, hovering him over the bed for a moment before placing him on the bed beside his mother.

With a comforting hand on his son's back, bending low he whispered, "Speak softly, my son. Though her eyes are closed she may easily awaken. Loud noises could startle her and cause her to cry. We will take great care in her presence, will we not?"

Devyni nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, Daddy. I promise to be very quiet and gentle. I'm going to be a very good big brother."

Hannibal kissed the top of his son's head.

"Of that I am certain."

Devyni clung to his mother's shoulder, peeking over to look at his sister. He smiled.

"Mommy, does my sister have a name?"

"Yes, Dev. Her name is Angelina."

The boy watched his little sister, nudging her tiny hand with his. The baby reflexively gripped his finger and held tightly. He smiled.

"Did you choose her name, Mommy?"

"No. I chose your name, Dev. It was Daddy's turn, so he chose the name."

The boy nodded. He then reached over his mother's arm and leaning across her body, began to very slowly stroke a single finger repeatedly over his sister's cheek.

Devyni whispered very quietly, "It is a very fitting choice, I think."

Hannibal watched the interaction. His son was obviously very intrigued by the baby as his explored.

"Fitting, how?"

Devyni tugged gently on the blanket as he shifted his attention to the baby's feet. He bumped his index finger along each toe as if counting them one by one.

"I think it is fitting because she looks very much like an angel. She has yellowy-red curls in her hair. My hair is brown and is only wavy, not curly."

Hannibal agreed, "Yes. The yellowy-red hair is referred to as strawberry-blonde. If I am not mistaken, your mother's hair was similar when she was a little girl."

"Was it Mommy?"

"Yes, Dev, but I think your sister's hair is a little more blonde than mine was. Daddy's sister had blonde hair, too."

"She is sleeping so I can't see them. What color are Angel's eyes?"

Clarice tilted the baby toward Devyni so he could see her more clearly. "She'll open them eventually, but they're maroon, Dev."

He turned quickly toward his father.

"She has _your _eyes, Daddy?"

"And my mother's before me."

"I have my mother's eyes."

"Yes, my son, you do. It is one of your best features. You are a very handsome boy."

"Thank you. Mommy says I'm handsome because I look like you. My sister is very beautiful but I can't tell who she looks like, yet because she doesn't look like a person."

"If not a person, what do you think she looks like?"

"I think she looks like a cherub or like Cupido, the painting you showed me when we went to the museum in Buenos Aires last month."

Hannibal was often pleasantly surprised by his son's contextual knowledge and ability to apply past events to current experiences, "Yes, though, in that painting, Cupido had wings much like a butterfly."

The boy watched his sister very closely as if memorizing her features. He lowered his head and traced his nose along her hand, inhaling.

_He is memorizing her scent…my son…_

"True. Still, though she doesn't have wings, my sister is very angelic. I love her very much."

Hannibal smoothed a loving palm over his son's head.

"As we love you."

He then stepped back and with a lift of his chin and a quick tilt of his head, gestured to Clarice that he intended to leave the room.

She nodded her agreement as her son snuggled close.

As the boy cuddled alongside Clarice, Hannibal strolled across the room, content that his family was safe and happy.

_The boy deserves to be reassured that his mother will love him as much today as yesterday. Mother and son enjoying time together…perfection._

A question from son to mother abruptly halted him.

Devyni, his voice beaming as pure as light cuts through crystal, pierced Hannibal's heart, asking, "Mommy? Though you no longer do so for me, do you intend to feed the baby at your breast?"

Hannibal, hand still on the knob of the door, stopped dead in his tracks and listened.

There was surprise in Clarice's voice as she answered, "What? Nurse the baby? Yes, Dev, I'm going to nurse her just like I nursed you."

Hannibal's mind processed quickly. Was there accusation in the boy's voice? He thought not. He breathed deeply and listened, closely, assessing his son's emotional state.

Devyni observed, "I don't do that anymore. You give me my milk in cups, now."

Turning slightly, Hannibal noted that Clarice pulled the boy closer to her body. She kissed his forehead and responded, "Yes. You go to school, now. I can't very well come to your classroom and breastfeed at lunchtime, can I?"

Clarice answered honestly, but there was a hint of something Hannibal couldn't quite identify. He believed her response might be tinged with regret, maybe guilt, but not one to indulge either emotion, it was difficult for him to judge.

_My brilliant boy, you are so observant…where will you take this?_

The boy shook his head as he questioned, "Did you offer me cups of your milk in advance of Angel's birth because you knew the baby could only drink from your breast?"

"Partially, but mostly because you're a big boy now. But, you don't have to drink from cups if it makes you feel bad?"

Hannibal angled his body to better observe from the doorway.

Devyni stopped touching his sister and turned all of his attention to Clarice.

"Don't have to what?"

"You can nurse at home if it makes you feel better. I don't want you to think you've been pushed aside for your sister. If something bothers you, I need you to tell me."

Devyni shook his head and returned his attention to his sister. He was poking his fingers within the tiny ringlets of her hair as he commented, "I don't feel pushed aside, Mommy. She's a baby. I'm not. I'll accept my milk in a cup and she can feed at your breast. I love her so much that I don't mind."

Understanding exactly how his son felt, Hannibal left his children to bond with their mother. Devyni needed this special time. For now, Hannibal would step aside.

* * *

Though he wanted to enjoy time with Clarice and the baby, the house was filled with people eager to share the experience. He entered the family room and took a seat in his large wing chair. Lady Murasaki sat opposite in an antique rocking chair reading a book of poetry.

Logan and Ardelia were curled up on the couch. The moment Hannibal entered the room, Logan, as if snapping to attention in front of a general, sat bolt upright.

Ardelia was shifted from his lap, carping, "Hey, what did you do that for! I was comfortable!"

Logan apologized, "Sorry. It's Doc's home. I don't want to be rude."

Hannibal waved away the concern.

"Please. You are family. Do not make yourselves uncomfortable on my account. Relax. Please."

Ardelia attempted to settle against Logan once more, but he refused to sit back, instead clamoring, "Can we see the baby?"

"Perhaps in a few minutes. Young Hannibal is with his mother. I think it best to allow mother and son to bond with the baby. I don't want him feeling as if he's been displaced in any way."

Lady Murasaki looked up. "He won't. You didn't."

"No, but I was nearly four when my sister was born. He is very much younger."

Without lifting her eyes from the book, she smiled, adding, "But every bit as brilliant. He'll love his sister without thought of jealousy."

Hannibal settled in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. Leaning on his elbow, he rested his cheek and temple on tented fingers.

"Yes. But intellectual comprehension and emotional understanding are two entirely separate matters."

She ran a finger across the tops of the pages, lifted a corner and smoothed the page across to the opposite side as she turned it.

"Lecter males, even as very young boys, are not ruled by emotions. They are ruled by their minds. In this, young Hannibal is his father's son."

Frustrated that he was sitting as straight as a ladder-back, Ardelia pushed Logan against the arm of the couch and curled against him. "You and Clarice are great parents. He'll do well. You don't have a thing to worry about."

Nodding, Hannibal agreed, "Yes. Clarice has a way with the boy. Every boy's first love is his mother."

Ardelia continued, "Sons and their mothers. It's a special bond, for sure."

Jostling his body to find a comfortable position, no doubt wanting to please Ardelia without offending Hannibal, Logan added, "Yeah…I hate to admit it, but I'm a bit of a Mama's boy, myself."

"Yeah, that comes as a real shock to us all, I'm sure." Laughing as she kissed his shoulder, Ardelia teased, "Frankly, I'm surprised you're weaned."

Logan rolled his eyes, "Very funny, Dee. You just want to make me look bad in front of Doc 'cuz you know it embarrasses me."

She hugged him tightly, joking, "You don't need any help embarrassing yourself in front of Hannibal. You handle that pretty well on your own, for sure!"

Logan pouted, Ardelia giggled, and Hannibal suffered it all without complaint.

* * *

Lora entered the room with Devyni in tow. His head rested on her shoulder, his eyes heavy as sleep began to slowly overtake him.

"Excuse me, Hannibal, but a very tired young man would like to go to sleep now."

Hannibal moved to stand, but Lady Murasaki held a hand, interrupting his movements.

"Devyni would you like me to tell you stories of your father when he was your age as we get ready for bed?"

He lifted his head, suddenly animated as he enthused, "I would love that! Thank you, Auntie!"

Lora transferred him carefully.

The moment Lady Murasaki exited with the boy, Lora continued, "Clarice has asked for Ardelia and Logan. They're both welcome to visit with the baby if you aren't busy."

Logan encouraged, "No, we're not busy. Really! We want to meet the baby!"

Lora stepped aside. "Do you want me to escort you?"

Ardelia stood first. "No, that's okay. We know the way."

The pair practically climbed over one another to get out the door. Hannibal smiled. Clarice was safe. Her baby was in her arms and her friends were close. Once more, Hannibal stepped to the side and allowed his wife time with her friends.

He walked to the doorway and embraced Lora, kissing her once on each cheek before taking her by the hand and leading her to sit in the chair he considered an honor: the matching chair beside his normally occupied by Clarice.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Lora."

"Not at all, Doctor. Babies come on their time, not ours."

"True, very true. Still, if not for your willingness to respond at a moment's notice, I would have been forced to bring Clarice to the hospital for the birth. It wouldn't be safe otherwise. Her last labor was quite dangerous. Thankfully, the placenta was fully in place making this birth proceed without complication."

Lora's eyes twinkled. She leaned toward Hannibal, confiding, "Speaking of which, while you were visiting with your friends and Clarice was spending time with the children, I took the liberty of placing the placenta in a sealed container in your refrigerator. It is labeled, _Organ Meat_."

Hannibal smoothed a palm over his forehead, flattening his hair as he considered, "Thank you. Now that young Hannibal is growing older and is becoming so inquisitive, I'm not certain I will partake, though I appreciate the gesture."

"At the very least you can dehydrate some of it. If you reduce it to powder form and place it in capsules it is said to help women recover."

"Yes. I have seen the research. I shall take that under advisement."

As if fidgety, Hannibal stood quickly. He walked to a side table. There was a bottle of champagne and several glasses left by Ardelia and Logan, popped to celebrate the baby's birth. With a flare, Hannibal lifted two pieces of crystal stemware and smoothly poured. Handing a glass to Lora, he bowed.

"My thanks, dear Lora, for your discretion, your professionalism and your grace."

She raised her glass. "And to your lovely family. My wishes that you have a very long, peaceful and loving life together."

He sipped from his glass. Pausing, he added, "Know that for you help and your dedication to my family, you have my lifelong devotion."

"Thank you, Hannibal. That means a great deal to me."

They sipped their drinks. Hannibal sat once more, relaxing finally. They were quiet for a time.

Lora spoke first, joking, "Now that you have your son and your daughter, any plans for future children? Twins…triplets, perhaps. I need to know if I should keep my social calendar open ten or twelve months from now."

Though he was clearly exhausted, his impeccable posture softening slightly, Hannibal laughed heartily.

"Though, I would love a large family, I am not certain. Knowing I wanted a daughter, Clarice indulged me in this. I think the least I can do is allow her the time to recover. Aside from the scant few months between pregnancies, she has been with child the better part of two years. It's time I put my wants aside and allow for hers."

Lora smiled as she confirmed, "So, I may be back again? You might want more?"

"More children…with my Clarice? Always…always."

**Until the next chapter, my friends! **

**LH**


	70. Chapter 70

**To my #NMSL twitter crew- I've put a little Easter egg in this chapter for you! It won't be too hard to find! I hope it makes you smile! **

**NO MORE SCORCHED EARTH**

By the time he returned to the kitchen to clean the last of the dinner party remnants Hannibal was exhausted.

Having finished visiting with Clarice, the baby and the others, Lady Murasaki entered the kitchen and began emptying the dishwasher. Her voice flowed like water, gentle and soothing.

"Your daughter, like your son, is very lovely, Hannibal. Allow me to say, nephew, you have a beautiful family."

Without looking up from his task of returning the clean pots and pans in the cabinets he responded, "It is your family as well."

She quietly carried dishes to him and placed them on the marble counter for him to put away. The scene was domestic. Comfortable. Hannibal noted how gracefully she moved. Despite her age he found her, still, an exceptionally elegant woman. Regal.

Placing a hand on his she spoke very quietly, "Yes. I have you to thank you for that. You could easily have turned me away."

Not wanting to seem rude, Hannibal paused a moment before moving the hand to attend to his task.

"Clarice moreso than myself. She is the conscience I oftentimes lack."

Lady Murasaki shook her head. "You may say that, but I know better. You could have disagreed."

Having finished his household duties, Hannibal cupped her elbow and guided her to to the small breakfast table. It was nestled beside the large window in the corner of the kitchen. He held her chair.

"What makes you think she did not?" Hannibal questioned as he put a cup with saucer on the table in front of her. "She is quite the independent woman. That she has a vibrant mind of her own and not afraid to challenge me is one of her most attractive assets."

"I'm certain. But, though she is an independent woman with a mind of her own, she is respectful of your wishes. She would never act without your word. Especially not in matters such as this."

Nodding, Hannibal poured Lady Murasaki a cup of tea from the pot he'd brewed earlier. The pair sat very quietly, sipping Earl Grey from elegant china cups.

His lush baritone had little emotion, but it soothed nonetheless as he returned, "Perhaps that is true, but then we would both be lacking, yes?"

She watched with the thoughtful eyes that, though he was long familiar, Hannibal rarely regarded. They were often lowered and now that the years had reshaped their relationship, he no longer had cause to seek them out.

"Yes, though in the exchange, I would be lacking much more. You have your love. Your Clarice. I had no one."

"It is of little consequence what you lacked, only what you have. You are loved now, and that is all that matters. The past is but a series of events. It carries no weight for us now. That we go forward as a family is all that matters."

She looked down for a moment. Hannibal wondered why the shift. Perhaps she didn't want to see his response.

She questioned, "Do you believe that? That your past does not weigh on your future?"

Crossing one leg over the other, Hannibal sipped the tea, contemplating, "Yes. I most certainly believe that or I would not have stated it. My past is just that. It has passed. Now that I may live freely, there is no reason to think it a burden. If it colors my future, the hues are muted, for me at least. If others perceive it differently, that is their burden. Not my own."

Lady Murasaki glanced up, finding his eyes.

He did not look away. Was the attention intended to elicit a reaction? He was unsure. He prepared for the next question or comment, curious as to the direction of the conversation. His nostrils flared. There was no anxiety thus far.

_Where are you leading me? _

The next questions brought clarity as Lady Murasaki posed, "Hannibal? Your daughter?"

Though his heart skipped a beat, he said nothing. Hannibal simply stared ahead and controlled his responses as he waited for her to complete the thought. The rapid spike to her stress hormones revealed his silence was causing discomfort. Despite the obvious uneasiness, still, his thoughts went unspoken. Her disquiet was curious, but of little concern.

"Did you hear me, Hannibal?"

The slow rolling tilt of his head illustrated he had no intention of responding to her opening query. It now painfully obvious he would not be baited, conceding, she returned, "Your daughter. She looks very much like your sister. I find that I see Mischa when I look upon her. I wondered your reaction to that."

Her purpose was now plain and watched her intent like an owl would, hidden deep within the branches of a tree. He was present, but guarded in ways perhaps even he did not recognize.

Wringing all emotion from his tone, he countered, "Though I recognize the verity of your statement, I have no reaction whatever to that fact. While I do see Mischa, I see more of Clarice in my Angel than anyone else."

Another long pause as she sipped her tea, eyes downcast.

Hannibal breathed deeply. His exhalation was protracted as he asked, "In this conversation, am I the predator or the prey?"

"I don't get your meaning."

"I have no idea if I am being stalked or am being perceived a threat. You are anxious. You cannot look me in the eyes now, thought there was once a time, long ago, when you sought them out. Now, when we speak, you look downward. If you have thoughts there is no need to fear my response. Please, speak them plainly. I am fatigued and haven't the patience."

Her tone took on strength not present earlier. "Do not confuse respect for subservience, nephew. I look down as a way to genuflect. To offer my admiration…my devotion to you for all you have given me."

Hannibal set his cup on its saucer and with the supple swipe of the back of his hand, moved the drink aside.

Unmoved, nodding in response, he recognized, "Your esteem is duly noted. Speak plainly."

Their eyes locked. Hers soft. His neutral, though his mind tumbled with memories of their past. He closed the doors that within his mind rattled loosely. The past was done. He had no need to revisit, though he imagined his aunt moving quietly through his memory palace, tapping on doors, testing to see which might open.

_None. They are closed. There is only now. This family. This time. There are no others. _

The thought hung between them for a time, Hannibal knowing what was to come, though he would not answer the call.

Her mouth dry from nerves, her lips smacked as they parted. Lady Murasaki hesitated, "Your eyes…she…carries them."

Folding his hands neatly on the table he leaned forward. His sculptured head reaching out from his shoulders like a lion's as it stalked in tall grass. Though his body language screamed aggression, he commented without sentiment, "Yes, she does. As my mother did before me."

Eyes joined, she respectfully challenged, "The past is present in those eyes."

Hannibal stood firm.

"No more than in my own. Though I'll admit my mother's eyes were striking, there is no pain in that memory as love glowed from them. My daughter will be well loved. That will soften the fire in her eyes to the same warming embers as those of her namesake."

"Yes. Yes, I remember." She covered his folded hands with her own. Seeking to console, she returned, "And you will once more see your mother's love in Angelina's eyes."

"If the eyes are indeed mirrors of the soul, my daughter's will reflect her own, not mine or my mother's." Unaffected by what he considered to be an unnecessary show of support, Hannibal stated simply, "Though I appreciate your concern for me, I assure you, it is not necessary. While I am a product of my past, I am not a victim of it. What tortures, can also strengthen. I embrace my pain, if it can be called such. Worry not, dearest aunt. There are no demons stalking me."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Hannibal. Forgive my prying, but I do worry. You keep in so much."

"On the contrary, my aunt. I am as you see me: a contented man. Certainly made more so when finally in the arms of my wife, but content nonetheless. "

"That reminds me, you may relax now, Hannibal," she offered,"the others have gone."

An arched eyebrow was the only evidence of surprise registering on his face. Nodding, he questioned, "Is that so? Without so much as a goodbye?"

Knowing the conversation was about to end, Lady Murasaki stood. Hannibal followed her direction as she lifted her teacup and saucer and placed them in the sink.

"Clarice asked them to leave discreetly. She told them she was exhausted and you'd been through enough today. I'm to deliver their goodbyes and to tell you she's waiting for you. Hannibal is asleep in your bed. She asked me to tell you that you'll need you to carry the boy to his room and dress him for bed."

Reaching for the teapot, Hannibal returned to the sink and began to remove the leaves. As Lady Murasaki watched, he cleaned the dishware thoroughly, but with much more speed than was his custom. He was anxious to see his wife.

"It is a task I relish."

As he washed each piece, Lady Murasaki dried them and put them away in their proper place. Hannibal then took a towel, dried his hands, folded it meticulously and draped it over a rack.

Turning to his aunt, he asked, "Would you care to join us and spend time with little Angelina?"

"No. Thank you for the offer. I've visited with the baby and Clarice along with the others. It's best if you have the opportunity to spend some time with Clarice and your children without prying eyes. Even family members, beloved though I feel, can be intrusive in moments such as this."

He took both her hands in his. Lifting them to his lips he kissed each hand.

"Thank you, dear Aunt. I shall bid you a good night."

He then bent low and kissed each side of her face.

She smiled.

"I cannot tell you how happy I am for you, my dearest Hannibal. Though I am not the warm rain that soothes, no more scorched earth, hmmm?"

He nodded.

"If ever there was, there is no more."

She skimmed her knuckles across his cheek. "Know that I am glad for that, my nephew. So very glad."

* * *

Hannibal entered the room to find Devyni curled against his mother. His head rested on her right breast as he spooned her hip. His tiny arm was draped over her belly. Clarice's right hand wrapped protectively around her son.

She was sleeping as well with the baby nestled safely in the bend of her left arm propped with a series of pillows. Hannibal watched, entranced as the baby suckled quietly, still latched to his wife's left breast.

The child was awake, suckling quietly. Hannibal placed a palm on the baby's head and sighed. She looked up at him. He was certain she smiled.

Gripping the headboard of the bed he stretched across and kissed the top of his baby's head, whispering, "I will be back to visit with you in a moment, my little Angel. For now, your brother must be put to bed."

Gripping the boy from his right wrist, Hannibal very slowly peeled him from his mother. Scooping him in his arms, he moved with care so as not to stir his son. The walk to Devyni's room found Hannibal slowing his pace to pepper his son with loving kisses. Nosing within Devyni's hair he breathed deeply, the scent soothing. Shifting his son slightly to open the door, he placed the boy on the changing table.

Humming Brahms as he tended his son, he removed the boy's clothing, washed him with a warm cloth and put him in his pajamas. In the middle of the process Devyni opened his eyes.

"What are you doing, Daddy?"

"I am preparing you for bed, my son. It is quite late. Your mother is already sleeping."

Devyni grabbed his father's thumbs in an attempt to gain more attention and entreated, "Do I _have_ to go to bed, Daddy? I _really_ want to play with my sister."

Hannibal kissed the boy's hands.

"There is school tomorrow, therefore you must sleep." He lifted the boy from the changing table and placed his son in his crib. Kissing him, he whispered, "Goodnight, Hannibal. Sleep well."

"You too, Daddy." Not one to argue with his father, Devyni curled onto his side and clutched his favored blanket. Snuffling against the luxurious fabric, he added, "Even though I'll really miss playing with her."

Placing a hand on his son's back, he memorized the rhythm of each respiration.

"Tomorrow is another day, yes? You may play to your heart's content when you are home from school. For now, you must sleep."

"Goodnight, Daddy. I love you, Mommy and my sister very much."

"And we love you. Goodnight, my son."

"G'night, Daddy."

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry. Good night, Daddy."

"That's my boy."

Hannibal paused at the door listening to his son's breathing. The moment the rhythm signaled sleep, he flipped on the intercom and left the room.

* * *

When Hannibal returned to his bedroom, he went directly to the bathroom. Not stopping to look at his wife for fear temptation would bring him too quickly to her side, he undressed quickly. Stepping within the stall he soaped his body as the hot water caused clouds of steam to waft around him. The water pulsed. As the beating streams massaged his tired muscles he passed a luxurious washcloth over his body. Now clean, he draped the cloth over the shower caddy and faced the head of the shower.

Pressing his palms on the travertine, he hung his head and allowed the liquid to stream down his face. He imagined Clarice, her body warm against his. A door opened in his mind. Husband, sentry at this opening, allowed the indulgence and granted Hannibal entry. He revisited the night he took Clarice in the shower at their home in Argentina. Though she'd misunderstood him that night, it was a scene that played out many times since, but without the same intensity. There was an aggression that night. The excitement was heightened until he'd realized she was not as willing as he believed. He recalled that unbridled lust.

The images and sensations were so fully realized that Hannibal became aroused. For a moment he thought to ask Clarice for relief, but that would be selfish. Instead he took himself in hand. Within his mind, his wife wound her own fingers around him, not his own.

_Clarice…my Clarice…you move me like no other…_

She was delicate. Her touch was as tender as the whispers of love that flowed like music within his ears. He breathed deeply. Her scent surrounded him. He could taste her want. One hand splayed on the elegant tile as he leaned forward. He could feel her grip and the way she twisted her wrist as she pulled upward. Her hand moved downward. Another slow draw upward caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

_Clariiice..._

The speed quickened. His body responded to the friction. His heart pounded. His breathing became more shallow and harsh with each sensual stroke. With Clarice's voice ringing clear, his breath quickening with the rhythm of her hand, he gasped. His body expanded, his body burned as the need surged, rising upward. With the huffing of quick breaths, his mouth opened. He panted, wisps of water entering his mouth as he clutched for air. Suddenly, his body trembled. With a shuddering groan he leaned against the wall. Her name was on his lips as he surrendered control.

Breathing slowly returning to normal, he stood in the shower for several minutes allowing the water to clear his mind and cleanse his body. Within moments he was in bed at his wife's side. Waking, she reached for her husband. Feeling his body, Clarice curled against him. Placing her head on his chest, they encircled arms and held their daughter between them.

Hannibal kissed his wife.

"Thank you, Clarice…thank you."

She didn't respond, instead kissing his chest. Within moments, she was once more fast asleep. Hannibal closed his eyes and together, they slept. No more doors opened that night. His wife in his arms. His son in his bed and his daughter safe at hand, Hannibal Lecter was a contented man.

_**Until the next chapter, my friends!**_

_**LH**_


	71. Chapter 71

**HANNIBAL BONDS**

Hannibal rested with his wife in his arms. Both parents cradled their daughter between them. Resting quietly, Hannibal watched his daughter with rapt attention. Several minutes passed. He noted her eyes tracked with regularity. Moonlight streaming around the edges of the blinds provided the only available light. Other than that, the room was in near total darkness.

With his child latched to Clarice's left breast, he had a clear view of his daughter's face. Hannibal sat up and reached behind him to prop a pillow that he might more clearly see the baby. From his periphery he thought her eyes might have tracked his movement.

_Can you see me in the darkness, my little Angel? Perhaps we might test your ability?_

Though the fact she carried his eyes made it likely, he wanted to be certain she could see him. He hadn't bothered testing the ability in Devyni as the boy's eyes favored his mother. He'd kept a watchful eye, but there had been nothing of note. This was different. She seemed to be noticing that which would be unavailable to the average person.

_You brother's sight is exceptional, but normal in low light. Having my eyes, do you also have the same ability to see in near darkness that I possess? Watch carefully, my Angel._

Testing his hypothesis, he lifted his arms and and held his hands in front of his face. Peering between his fingers he could clearly see the baby's brow crease the instant his face was covered.

_Are you wondering where Daddy went, precious daughter?_

Silently lowering his arm, he peeked above his fingertips.

The baby reached out with a hand and gripped his thumb. She attempted to tug his hand away from his face.

_You are brilliant, as well! Perhaps your brother will have an equal?_

The baby continued to push at Hannibal's hands until he lowered them.

The very moment he moved his hands to once more reveal his face, she released her grip and began to coo. Hannibal once more held out his hand. As his child stretched to touch him he shifted the location slightly. When she corrected for his movements, he knew.

_Yes, I know you can see me, my little Angel. You have that which I too possess. _

Silently, as his daughter suckled, their eyes locked. For several minutes Hannibal stroked his daughter's face as she nursed. Neither turned from the other. When she'd had her fill and released Clarice's breast he very tenderly slipped her from her mother's hold.

Gathering his daughter in his arms he very carefully scooted to the edge of the bed.

Nuzzling his nose along her cheek, he whispered, "We must be careful not to wake mother. She has been through quite a lot bringing you into the world. Rest is something she sorely needs."

The baby reached for his face and patted her chubby little hand against his cheek.

"I want to be with you as well, but it is time for you to rest in your cradle, my daughter." Setting her on her back he kissed her on each of her rounded cheeks. "Daddy loves you very much."

Before he had the chance to straighten himself, Angelina reached for his nose and gripped it. Recalling it was something Devyni did often, Hannibal smiled. "No, it isn't safe for you to sleep the entire night between your mother and I. You may share our bed only while you are nursing, but not to worry, it won't be long before you feed again."

Hannibal placed his daughter in the cradle. He reached for a changing pad and gripping his daughter gently by the ankles, lifted her bottom and slipped it beneath. Gathering the supplies, within minutes he'd cleaned her thoroughly, disposed of the diaper, and tucked her in.

Placing a hand on her head he stroked a thumb to assess the fontanelle on top of her head.

_Not too depressed. You are well-hydrated, little one. _

He then placed a hand on her chest to assess her breathing. Strong. Healthy. Confident, he kissed her once more. "Sleep, my little Angel. Sleep."

As if attending to his words, the baby closed her eyes. Hannibal stood over her for a time. She was everything he'd imagined his daughter to be, his mother's eyes and his wife's smile. Her coloring a blend of Clarice and Mischa, she was perfect in every way in which a child could be.

She has done so well, providing another gorgeous child. A birthing gift, I must not forget.

_Rubies…deep shining crimson to remind her of the love reflected within their baby's eyes, perhaps. More thought is needed. Devyni could shop with me. A gift from husband and son for the gift she has given us both. Yes. He will accompany me. _

Turning, he walked across the room. A quick look toward his wife informed that she was awake. He took off his pajama bottoms and draped them across the foot of the bed. Now that his child was not between them, modesty was not an issue.

Clarice whispered, "H, where's the baby?"

"She is sleeping, Clarice. I placed her in the cradle."

"Thank god, I woke and she was gone. I was worried I might have rolled over and hurt her or something. Did you change her before you put her to bed?"

Hannibal sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. Clarice immediately placed a hand on his back. She never disappointed. If he was near, she reached for him. The thought raised a satisfied smile. He'd chosen well.

"Of course, my Love. What kind of a father would I be if I left such tasks to you?"

Her hand glided down his back and over his hip. She patted on his leg to draw him close.

"Probably a pretty average one. Most guys will do it, but they have to be guilted into it. I'm just glad I don't have to beg you or manipulate you into doing that sort of thing."

Hannibal lifted his feet from the floor and swung them onto the bed.

"It is my honor to care for our children. If small tasks such as that lighten your burden, I'm only to happy to do my part."

As Hannibal settled, Clarice, realizing she'd fallen asleep as the baby nursed, sat up and adjusted her nightgown, tucking her exposed breast within the fabric.

When Hannibal noticed what she was doing, he groaned, "I was looking forward to that…are you going to deny me, Clarice?"

Flipping the covers over her shoulder, Clarice complained, "H…give me a break. I'm feeling like Elsie the cow, here. There are days I feel like I'm nothing more than a glorified milkmaid."

Cupping a hand over her shoulder, Hannibal kissed her cheek.

"From now on I shall refrain, my Love…you've enough mouths to feed."

"I'm not trying to wean you fully, H…just not every minute of every day."

"Understood."

He spooned against his wife. Dropping his chin over her shoulder he placed a trail of tender kisses on her neck as he whispered, "Thank you, Clarice. She, our Angelina, like her mother and her brother, is perfection."

Clarice reached for his thigh and pulled him close.

"You're pretty perfect too, H."

His hands wrapped around her body. They fit each other well. Like two halves of the same whole, they were only complete when joined.

Hannibal playfully scoffed, "_Me?_ _Perfect?_ Nonsense, though I am glad you are of that opinion."

She rolled into his embrace. Now that the baby was born, the couple was able to move much closer together. Hannibal grasped her belly with one hand and smoothed wide circles over it with the other.

"Your abdomen has gone down so much already, my Love. Soon you'll be back to your former fit self."

Clarice stroked her hands up and down the length of his arms. He was well muscled for a man his age. Fit. Her voice showed a hint of disappointment, perhaps considering her own physique.

"You say that as if it disappoints you. Don't worry about it, I'm sure it will take me forever to even come close to my pre-baby body."

"On the contrary, I'm looking forward to reacquainting myself with your physique. I will spend hours exploring. You'll have to be very patient with me if I overfeed you for a time, Clarice. I'm really in no hurry to see curvy version of your body end. Pregnancy suited you. You positively glow when you're with child."

She snuggled close, "I think patience can be arranged. As for pregnancy suiting me, you can trust me when I say it's a suit I'm not wearing any time soon! In a few weeks when you're champing at the bit to get back in the saddle, we're going to have to come to a decision."

Hannibal busied himself with her hair. Nosing through it, he breathed deeply and ran his fingers through the tresses. Lifting large swaths, he allowed the hair to fall away, enhancing her scent in the air.

"Come on, stop playing around. What the hell, H! I need your attention."

"You have my full and undivided attention, Clarice. You were discussing further pregnancies?"

"No-the-hell-I-wasn't! I was discussing the fact that I want to _avoid_ further pregnancies. At least for the immediate future."

Hannibal sighed.

"Our children are spectacular, Clarice, but I understand the stress and the toll this is taking on your body. Very well. We will actively avoid further pregnancies for the time being. As I'm not agreeing to abstinence and the rhythm method requires more control than I am capable of, would you like to begin birth control?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"Am I to go to the druggist and purchase condoms like a teenager on prom night or are we going full-out and introducing birth control pills?"

"We are going full-out with the pills, H. No screwing up."

"If memory serves, dear wife, you were on birth control pills when you became pregnant with young Hannibal. Shall I spoon feed them, or will you make an effort to be more responsible this go-around?"

"Oh, don't be such a wiseass, H!"

"Heaven forbid, Clarice…heaven forbid."

* * *

Lora arrived bright and early just as Lady Murasaki was leaving with Devyni. Her eyes were slightly reddened. As the women exchanged pleasantries, Devyni moved around their legs. Looking upward, it was obvious he had something pressing to say, but the women were talking and not attending to his activities. Finally, Devyni reached up and tugged on Lora's skirt. She looked down and smiled, but the boy spoke first.

"Your eyes are red. Were you crying?"

Appearing self-conscious, Lora brushed a knuckle across her cheek.

"No, Hannibal, I have allergies. It makes my eyes look as if I've been crying, but I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Have a wonderful day at school."

The boy's nostrils flared. He looked over his shoulder. His father was standing behind him.

"We will discuss the way in which you address adults when you come home from school. For now, have a good day, mind your teachers and choose your friends well. Remember, you represent me when you are away from your family."

Devyni's body language drooped. His eyes downcast, he did not look up.

Recognizing the penitence in his son's body language, Hannibal lifted the boy and kissed his cheek. Holding Devyni comfortably he tapped his finger playfully on the tip of his son's nose. A reminder.

"I am proud of you, my son. May I trust my name is well guarded in your keep?"

No longer fearing his father's wrath but taking the lesson to heart, the boy nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, Daddy. I'm going to be very good today. I promise."

Kissing him once more he set Devyni down and scooted him toward his aunt.

"That you have promised me, I am certain of it." He turned to his aunt, offering, "Thank you for bringing your nephew to school. It is a tremendous relief that he is in your care. It avoids…difficulties."

Lady Murasaki bowed slightly. "I'm only too happy. We want Devyni to have many friends. Hopefully he will chose an _appropriate_ playmate this week and we can arrange for some activities outside of school."

"That would make his mother most happy. Thank you."

The moment Lady Murasaki left with the boy, Lora pointed out, "I noticed you said it would make his _mother_ most happy. _Not yourself?"_

"I have little cause to be excited about someone else's whelp scuttling about my house corrupting my child. That his mother wants it is the only reason I've agreed."

"He may find a nice boy. Not every parent raises a hellion. Hopefully he will make a friend who is equally well mannered. Dev is perceptive. If you don't approve, he'll pick up on it right away and he'll be less likely to socialize. You saw how he reacts to your disapproval. It cuts him to the quick."

Hannibal nodded. "Yes, perhaps you're correct. I shall make an effort to keep an open mind. Clarice is sleeping as last night the baby nursed quite often. We can proceed with the examination once she awakens. Do you mind waiting or would you perhaps like to reschedule? I can offer you breakfast for the inconvenience."

"If it isn't too much trouble I have no problem waiting."

With the wave of his hand, Hannibal guided Lora into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and assisted her to sit.

With a flurry of activity, Hannibal put a place setting and silverware in front of her. He then set a series of covered dishes on the table. Lifting the lids, he offered, "Please, help yourself to any and all, I've placed Clarice's food aside so you needn't worry. Eat to your heart's content."

"And have you eaten? Will you join me?"

"No, I've yet to eat. I was waiting for Clarice, but I will be more than happy to share my coffee and perhaps a croissant. She should be down shortly. Please. Eat."

Lora lifted a spoon from the bowl and scooped a small measure of eggs. She then placed a half-ladle of fruit salad on her plate. Hannibal attended to her carefully. She wasn't her normal jovial self and where she would normally comfortably eat, now she picked at the food on her plate.

His brow lifted. He leaned closer and inhaled discreetly. Devyni had been correct. Salt. Her lachrymal ducts were recently active. He placed a hand on her arm.

"You've been crying and the thought of it…disturbs me. Excuse my asking, but would you feel comfortable sharing what has hurt you thus?"

"It's nothing. Just a thing with my ex-husband, but I don't want to trouble you with it."

"It's no trouble, really."

"He's just…well, he's an ass and I shouldn't let him get to me, but he does. He pushes my buttons like no other."

"Hence the reason he is an ex-husband, yes?"

"Yes. Well, that and the restraining order. Kind of puts a damper on a relationship when the guy's not allowed to come within a hundred feet."

"If there was something you needed or some way I could be of assistance, you would, of course, tell me. We are friends, are we not?"

"Yes, we're friends…we're friends."

Hannibal sipped his latte and contemplated Lora's ex-husband. The world might do well with one less dullard, but that remained to be seen.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


End file.
